


forever is in your eyes

by lookoutlovers



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Coming Out, Eliott loves glitter, First Love, Fluff, M/M, Pray for him, Secret Relationship, lucas is a disaster gay, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-03-09 14:57:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 86,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18919339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookoutlovers/pseuds/lookoutlovers
Summary: Lucas relishes within the imperishable guard he’s built around himself throughout the years. It’s indestructible, safe. Until he meets Eliott, who manages to slip between the tiny evolving cracks almost instantly, knocking down the floodgate and crashing effervescently into Lucas’ heart. Lucas told himself he wouldn’t fall like this, like a lovestruck fool.So quite naturally, that’s exactly what he does.





	1. très belle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> never thought fic writing would be something i’d do but lucas and eliott!!! damn cute. also disclaimer that this fic has been heavily edited since it was first posted, however there may still be some mistakes. if so i apologise. this is the first proper fic i’ve written so bear with the first couple of chapters! i was getting my grips just. but i hope you enjoy!! <3
> 
> title - what a heavenly way to die by troye sivan

« _aimer, ce n'est pas se regarder l'un l'autre, c'est regarder ensemble dans la même direction_   _»_

_..._

**Saturday 23:52**

Lucas is drunk. Like conspicuously so. _But certainly not high enough._

Where is that damn joint?

He pushes his head back against the cupboard door behind him, shuffling uncomfortably in his place on top of the counter in Emma's kitchen. The hard granite surface is not doing any helpful things for his tailbone whatsoever. And Arthur is kneading his scrawny elbow into Lucas' thigh as he listens intently to Basile ramble on about how he plans to secure the attention of yet another poor, poor girl. It’s almost intolerable.

"So that's the thing," Basile continues on. "How do I get her to fall in love with me if she walks away before I can even say hello?" He sighs in defeat.

Lucas had lost the train of conversation a while ago, bored of the same topic surfacing more often than he'd appreciate. Instead, amusing himself by people watching. Gazing at the large volume of drunk teenagers losing themselves in the bass of a mediocre EDM song, bodies painted with sweat and alcohol, pushed together in the small space of Emma's living room. 

He watches as a boy with conspicuous auburn hair climbs on top of a table of drinks, swaying his arms to the music in an attempt to show off, probably, but ends up falling ass-first onto the floor. _Idiot,_ Lucas giggles to himself. _God he is so drunk._

"I think losing at least ten percent of that desperate act you’ve got going on could potentially increase your chance by eh… 50 percent,” Arthur chimes in, interrupting Basile's self-loathing waffle and finally, _finally_ passing the joint Lucas’ way.

 _Yes._ Lucas inhales deeply, feeling drowsy, mind hazing over as he takes another hit. Sleep sounds so good right now. Maybe Emma wouldn’t mind if he just sprawled out on her kitchen counter to rest his eyes, just for a few minutes. _He’s so unbelievably exhausted._

Yann snorts, placing a pitying hand on Basile's shoulder, "Nah! No way bro. Not even a 2 percent chance. Have you seen Sofia? There's no way man. Plus I heard her ex was like, a 20-something year old gym model or some shit." Basile's face drops as Arthur and Yann chuckle simultaneously. 

"You're serious? That's what I have to live up to?" He mumbles, almost just to himself, staring into the crowd of people vacantly, most likely seeking out Sofia mindlessly dancing with her friends.

Lucas let his heavy eyes glance back to the makeshift dance floor. He hates parties. Always too crowded and messy, unruly teenagers either making out in shaded corners, or openly and carelessly grinding together in the midst of everyone, paying absolutely no mind to their surroundings.

Same, same, same. Boring.

His wandering eyes continue scanning the room with little purpose, wondering how long it would take for a noise complaint to disrupt the chaos. Soon, Lucas hopes, he’s starting to become increasingly irritable and jittery. That feeling when you know you want to be doing _something._ He can’t necessarily put a finger on it though. That’s what is itching at him, niggling at the back of his mind. 

It’s fucking annoying.

Lucas’ eyes falter. They narrow involuntarily in on a boy leaning against the wall of the living room, talking animatedly with a group of people, hands moving vivaciously as he speaks, face radiating that of the brightest ambience Lucas has ever seen, his features glowing.

And Lucas suddenly doesn’t feel like sleeping anymore. _Fuck sleep._

The boy is stunning, and maybe it’s Lucas’ drunken state, but everyone else in the room seems to vanish from his peripheral vision, sounds of music and load chatter becoming static, white noise to his brain. The boy with his messy abundance of hair, and pretty _pretty_ eyes, so blue but hinting on grey, are all Lucas can focus on.

Lucas hasn’t seen him around before, he’s pretty certain.  _He’d_   _remember that face._

His view of the boy threads in and out through the mass crowds of drunken teens stumbling past, a sheen of glitter highlighting his cheekbones, sparking radiance every time he smiles. He laughs at something the boy in front of him must have said. When the noise tumbles from his lips it’s like the motion possess his entire being, head bouncing back, shoulders hunching, vibrating with pure euphoria.

 _Beautiful,_ Lucas thinks, and _move_.

Irritation takes over him as the other boy shifts to the right, obstructing Lucas’ view. He moves his head further back against the cupboard behind him in attempt to regain sight of the boy.

“Earth to Lucas?? Hello dude you there?” Lucas’ head jolts back up to his friends, Yann snapping two fingers in front of his face. “Mhmm?” Ge raises his brows at them in question, while they all watch him with expecting eyes.

“You left us for a minute there man, everything good?” Arthur questions, swiping the joint from Lucas’ grasp to take his own hit.

“Uh, yeah, yeah fine, did you say something?” He aims at Yann.

“I said is there anyone you have your eye on tonight?”

 _Fuck._  This is why Lucas dislikes parties so much. It’s always the same shit. Basile trying to hook up with some poor girl who would literally rather do anything else, Yann and Arthur egging him on, and Lucas getting drunk, _so drunk,_ so that when they ask him exactly this, the shame of his countless lies don’t weigh him down. Heavy panic in his chest when he knows he could never give them the answer he truly aches to.

His searching eyes glance back towards the boy, still where Lucas had left him. _How would they react if I simply said “him”?_

He ponders on the thought only briefly, he _can’t_. Maybe in another parallel universe Lucas wouldn’t be so afraid. But he just _can’t_. 

Instead, he savours these moments for himself. Private glances at a pretty nameless boy, whose eyes, even from Lucas’ annoyingly far distance—  _he wants to be closer—_  are so radiant and clear.

So he settles for the answer he thinks they want to hear. “The brunette over there, in the black dress,” nodding his head towards the girl.

“Dude you’re gonna have to be more specific, there’s like 30 girls here that fit that description,” Arthur insists grinning his animated smile towards Lucas.

“In other words he wants to know the physical details, like her face? Or, size of her boobs?” Basile butts in with a smirk.

“Well Basile you are a bit slow, Lucas you probably need to draw a bit more of a picture for him to understand. Dumb it down a little,” Arthur retorts back. Basile only looks moderately offended. 

And _Fuck_ they really aren’t going to make this easy for him.

Lucas stutters, “Uh.” What is he supposed to say? It’s not like he spent much of his time, or any of it for that matter, thinking of ways to describe a girl. He could probably write a novel on how the boy with the glitter cheekbones smiles, how the fluorescent lights of the party cause his eyelashes to cast delicate shimmers across his cheeks, how his hands move in slow, practiced motions as he speaks.

See, that Lucas can do.

As if God was on his side, Emma rushes into the kitchen then, Daphné and Manon trailing behind her in a hurry.

“YANN!” Emma squawks drunkenly, “How are you? I’ve missed you!” She drawls out, throwing her arms around Yann’s shoulders and giggling into his neck.

Maybe this was Lucas’ lucky day, a distraction.

“Emma, come on,” Manon warns, shooting Yann an apologetic glance as he awkwardly tries to pry her hands off him.

“But Manon…” Emma whines, shoulders slumping and eyebrows furrowing.

Lucas feels certainly not drunk enough now, seeing Emma like this. He needs another beer, or three more beers. He also feels bad for Yann maybe, his breakup with Emma seemingly taking a hard hit on him.

Lucas had been there for every second of it, trying to be as present as possible for his friend in a time of need. It’s the least he could do for Yann after the countless times he was there for him, letting him stay over when things got shit at home, always listening to his rants and fears.

Yann put up with too much of Lucas’ shit and Lucas didn’t deserve it. 

“Emma, let’s go,” Daphné chimes in, attempting to remove her friend from saying something she would more than likely regret in the morning. “I heard that there’s a game of beerpong happening in the front room.”

She smiles her signature _Daphné smile_ , the one she can present to anyone at any time and instantly have them on her side.

“YES. Beerpong!” Emma chants, attention span foggy in her drunken state as she leaves Yann’s side, dragging Manon and Daphné along with her into the other room.

“Bro.” Basile pauses, watching after them, “I think I’m in love.” He declares it with a strong look of determination on his face, as if he had just had an epiphany. They all look to him in confusion.

“With Emma?” Lucas deadpans, realising it had been a while since he spoke up, still consumed by his foggy daze.

“No no no! With Daphné!” Basile whines in annoyance, slapping a hand to Arthur’s chest as he begins to laugh.

“Man, you’re an idiot,” Yann shakes his head.

“Come on, we have to go play beerpong now! This could be my only chance! I swear she is _the one._ ” Basile’s eyes are pleading, hands mimicking a prayer symbol.

“Right then, let’s go. To get the forty-seventh girl of Basile’s dreams!” Arthur jokes with sarcasm, as they begin to move away from the counter.

 _Ugh no._ Lucas is content sitting right where he is, thank you. With the most perfect view of the most perfect boy.

“You coming, Lucas?” Yann questions.

“Uh, gotta finish this. I’ll join you guys in a minute though,” Lucas responds, holding up the joint. It seems to satisfy the boys enough, as they leave in a series of subtle nods thrown his way to hunt down the game of beerpong.

Lucas watches them go as he takes another deep inhale of the joint. It feels good, just what he needs to drown out the continuous blabbering of _girls, girls, girls._ Lucas’ head hurts. He glances back to the wall, hoping to find the boy there, but instead he’s met with a different group of people, _and_ _that’s definitely not glitter cheekbones._

Lucas misses his pretty face already, it’s been a whole 6 minutes since his eyes last encountered beautiful eyes and smile and _pretty, there he is._ Leaning into the freezer and surfacing with a handful of ice, which he dumps into his red plastic cup. Lucas laughs breathily as the force of the ice hitting his drink causes light splatters of liquid to splash onto his face, making him jump slightly in shock.

_Cute._

Lucas smiles. Usually in a scenario like this he would keep his distance. Observe a pretty, unreachable boy safely from afar, never having the courage to actually approach out of fear. Fear of rejection mostly, of prying eyes and having to explain to his friends, _yes I like boys, but I swear I’m still the same._ Fuck that.

But somehow, today feels different. Lucas has just smoked a damn good joint and the most stunning human is standing just a mere few feet away from him. It would only be rude to _not_ introduce himself. So Lucas says fuck it and hops off the counter steadying himself with a hand to the side and stumbling forward until he’s right in front of the boy, who is now leaning against the opposite counter.

_Okay so maybe he’s still very much drunk._

“Wow there! Steady on,” the boy chuckles lightly in amusement, placing his free hand to Lucas’ upper arm to stop him from fumbling forward.

And _wow indeed_ , his laugh is so much more breathtaking up close. Lucas feels in awe by the way the corners of his eyes crinkle softly, like little crescent moons, as the beautiful sound of laughter tumbles from his lips.

“Hi,” Lucas gushes, out of breath. Mind increasingly hazy from being so close. He internally kicks himself and his lack of brain to mouth stimulation for not being able to accumulate more coherent words.

“Hi,” the boy mimics, giggling once again. And _God_ , does he ever stop being so damn adorable?

Lucas thinks this must be God’s punishment to him for accidently dropping Basile’s Ninja Turtles toothbrush down the toilet last month and hiding it in the trash instead of coming clean. Send the earth’s most ethereal boy Lucas’ way and watch him become a puddle of nervousness and mush.

Lucas feels his cheeks heat under the boy’s intense and curious gaze. Up close he can see how his eyelashes downcast ever so slightly, fluttering as he blinks, his lips pink and soft, _so soft_. Lucas wants to trace them with his fingertips.

Then his eyes. Magnetic and blue, _so_ blue, but tinted with a grey-green hue, like crystallised ice. Lucas could probably name at least three of the different shades of blue that are laced within his eyes if he really had to. He thinks that if he died right now, with this being his last moment, he’d be quite happy with that.

And he’s doing that _thing_ again. Time stops but not really, and he hasn’t said anything in too long and it’s getting weird. _It can’t get weird._

“What’s with the glitter?” He mumbles tilting his head to the side in curiosity, finally addressing the shimmer of silver and pink smeared along his cheekbones.

“Well it’s a party, no?” The boy raises his eyebrows question, as if to say  _it’s obvious,_ _why not glitter?_ Lucas raises his own eyebrows right back, _you didn’t answer my question._

The boy smiles bashfully, “You’re telling me you come to parties without a supply of glitter?” throwing Lucas a challenging expression.

“Are you telling me there’s more where that came from?” Lucas retorts back, scheming look on his face.

“Depends who’s asking,” the boy attempts to straighten out his face, mocking a seriousness, before a wide grin takes over and he _giggles, again._ He then reaches into the pocket of his oversized jacket and pulls out a small tub of glitter, shaking it from side to side for Lucas to see.

“Voilà!” His smile is intoxicating, eyebrows raising suggestively. Lucas’ cheeks ache in response, it’s infectious.

So that’s how Lucas finds himself standing in the middle of Emma’s kitchen, in the earliest hours of Sunday morning, with a tall pretty boy looming over him. His shoulders hunched and tongue peeking past his lips in concentration as he paints soft shimmers of glitter across Lucas’ cheeks. Every delicate brush of his fingertips burning holes through his skin. Lucas’ lungs feel deprived of air as he watches the boy at work, trying to memorise every minute detail of his face. He’s so close _. Too close._

Once he deems the spread of glitter satisfactory enough, he steps back slightly to admire his work.

“Very pretty,” he mumbles intently, eyes bare and honest as they dance across Lucas’ face, eventually finding their way back to his own and offering a private smile. Lucas feels like dying.

They stand there, inches apart, eyes wide and searching, burning into each other. Time has stopped, or maybe time was still charging on, and they were the ones stuck, enclosed within their own little bubble of blue-grey eyes and soft smiles.

Lucas thinks he would very much like to stay trapped in time like this forever.

A commotion of shouts force Lucas to break their eye contact and shift towards the living room, where the lights had since been switched on and music put to a halt.

“Let’s go people! Party’s over, everyone clear out!” a man dressed in police gear is making his way through the crowd, ushering the mass of drunken teens towards the exit.

 _Shit._ Lucas becomes increasingly aware of the bag of weed burning a deep hole in his back pocket. He needs to get out of here. Fast.

Lucas glances back to the boy, who was also observing the scene before them. “Uh, I should probably uh…” he stutters, gesturing towards the back door of the kitchen. Suddenly feeling a lot more sober with the lack of heavy bass and the sudden exposure of light.

“Uh yeah, me too, should probably go find my friends,” the boy murmurs in, is that... disappointment? He slowly begins to step away, gaze slipping nervously to the floor.

“Wait!” Lucas declares, sudden burst of confidence reeling through him. _Again, maybe still a little drunk._ “What’s your name?” The boy’s head perks up.

Intoxicatingly blue eyes meet Lucas’ own, “Eliott,” he speaks softly but with strong certainty, offering a warm tender smile, “I’m Eliott.”

“Lucas,” is all he’s able to suffice in return before the police officer begins to make his way towards the kitchen. Lucas filters quickly out through the back door, but not without one last glance back at the boy, eyes still lighting flames into Lucas as he stumbles backwards out of view.

_Eliott._

Lucas fumbles the name around his head, practicing the syllables, discovering how they sound falling so effortlessly from his lips.

_Eliott._

Lucas smiles to himself fondly the entire walk home.

**...**

 

**Sunday 10:34**

Lucas' eyes flutter open, instantly snapping shut again at the stark intensity of broad daylight streaming in through his open curtains. Drunk him clearly has no self-respect then. Great.

His head is pounding, room swirling as he reopens his eyes and squints, taking in his surroundings. He’s still in the same clothes from the night before, presumably arriving home and instantly falling unconscious on top of his duvet. His bedroom is littered with a mismatch of clothing items, abandoned the evening before as he had struggled to find the appropriate party attire.

Lucas sighs in aggravation. His mouth is unbearably dry, foul aftertaste of beer poisoning his taste buds. He needs water. An entire day spent in bed sounds pretty terrific right now.

He flops his head back onto the pillow in defeat, something catching itself in his eye. _Ugh._ Lucas rubs it with his fist sleepily, peering down at the array of silver sparkle lining his pillows, and what- _Oh_.

Memories of the clumsy night spent in Emma’s kitchen flood back into his conscious mind like a slap of waves. Lustful glances at a curious eyed boy, heart doing fluttering summersaults as said boy leaned into him, ghosting glittery fingertips across his cheekbones softly. _Ever so softly._ Gentle smiles and consuming laughter, making Lucas’ cheeks undergo a dusty pink rush of heat.

 _Eliott._ Lucas lets his mind wonder for a minute, thinking back to how the boy had brushed his fingers along Lucas’ face with so much care and attention, as if one misplaced spec would be a crime.

 _Very pretty._ Is what Eliott had said. Lucas feels his heart warm, nobody has ever said that to him before. What did it even mean? Was he referring to the glitter itself? Like _wow, that’s a masterpiece, I’m a pro at distributing glitter, very pretty._ Or was he referring to _Lucas._ He prays for the latter, the thought of being pronounced pretty by the prettiest boy he has ever laid eyes on causing his lips to curve involuntary. He exhales, calming his stuttering heart. _He feels so much._

Lucas twists in the bed, arms patting around the sheets in search of his phone before finding it still shoved in his back pocket. He presses down on the home button, illuminating the screen, display telling him he has only 12% battery remaining. He sighs and reaches below his bed, swiping away a pair of boxers to retrieve his charger.

Once plugged in, Lucas begins to scroll through the array of texts littering his screen.

**Yann 08:17**

_Bro what did you do with the stash_

_Police found shit at Emma’s and she’s mad_

_She thinks it was me_

Lucas rolls his eyes at Yann’s distrust in him being able to take care of a tiny bag of weed, reaching into his back pocket again to retrieve it. He tosses it onto his bedside table and types out a reply.

**Lucas 10:55**

_Chill I have it here_

**Yann 10:55**

_Shit thank god was beginning to think u were dead lol_

Lucas falls back into his sheets, fully prepared to get another few hours of rest. Until his bedroom door suddenly swings open with a force and his flatmate, Mika, barging in with a stern look on his face.

“Mika! The hell! Don’t you ever learn to knock?” Lucas exclaims in annoyance.

Mika rolls his eyes, “What? You think I’d be worried you’d be getting it on in here? Don’t worry I know you’ve not been getting any action recently Lulu,” he mocks.

Sighing a halfhearted, “I could be,” while Mika chuckles, Lucas becomes more agitated. “Did you need something then?” He snaps, raising his brows in question. He just wants to fucking sleep, is that too much to ask?

“Ah, yes, I do. Now that you ask Lucas. It’s just that we have a chores rota for a reason, it was your turn to load the dishwasher yesterday and it still hasn’t been done,” Mika explains, lips spread into a thin line and gesturing towards the kitchen.

Lucas isn’t getting anymore sleep anytime soon then, clearly. “Right okay, I’ll do it,” He huffs, moving to get off the bed.

Mika hums, looking as if he hasn’t quite finished. Lucas internally sighs, knowing what was coming.

“Also, the rent, Lucas…” He trails off, looking guilty. “You know I hate nagging you about it but you’re late again and the landlord lady is _scary_ , I don’t know how much longer I can cover for you.”

“I know, Mika,” Lucas starts apologetically, “My dad was supposed to transfer me money he must have forgot, I’ll text him I swear.”

Mika nods, “That’s fine just… We really like having you here. So much. Plus having the rent being split by four is much better than three. Just… quit being so late, it’s stressing us out,” he rambles.

And Lucas feels bad, he really does. Mika and his other flatmates, Manon and Lisa, have been nothing short of understanding to him the past few months. When Lucas had felt like his life was falling to pieces, like tiny shatters of glass as his parents spilt, his mum admitted into the clinic, his dad moving away and starting up his new perfect family, with a brand new girlfriend and a fucking Labrador. They were like a constant system of support for him. Taking him into the flatshare and providing him with a bed and warm meals. His own new family. Lucas was eternally grateful.

But having to crawl back to his dad every month and beg for rent money was the downfall of moving out. Lucas hates it. The fact that his dad still has that control over him, because Lucas still needs him, as much as he doesn't want to.

“I’ll get it. I promise.” Lucas says, hoping Mika can sense his true sincerity.

Mika smiles, “Okay Lulu, I believe you. Now dishes.”

Lucas groans in fake annoyance, “Alright, Mother, alright. I’m coming, I’m coming,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, jumping forward with laughter into the hallway when Mika slaps his ass playfully on the way past.

**…**

**Sunday 21:02**

Lucas is sat on the living room sofa, squished in between Lisa and Manon and watching an episode of _Mindhunter_. It was their flatshare tradition to choose a new Netflix series and binge watch it together in the evenings.

He lets out a weak yawn, eyes heavy with exhaustion as he shifts the communal popcorn bowl resting on his legs into a more comfortable position. Lucas feels tired. A common theme with him recently, as his mind was constantly on an ‘overthinking every single situation’ overload.

Lisa and Manon cringe visibly in their positions next to him as a gory crime scene photo appears on screen. “Ugh. Gross” Lisa grunts in disgust.

Lucas isn’t really paying attention. The show was a lot of talking, too much for his brain to formulate in his current tired state, focus not quite there. He allows his head to slide back against the sofa, eyesight becoming blurry and unfocused as he fall into a daydream.

His mind wonders back again to Emma’s party the night before. Thinking of how Eliott’s skin had illuminated under the glare of disco lights. Glowing shades of purple and amber highlighting the blue in his eyes.

What was it about this kid that had Lucas daydreaming like a damn _teenage girl?_ He’s seen his fair share of attractive boys before in his 17 years of life, but not once has he ever spent the entire following day thinking of how he’d like to trace the crinkles by their eyes as they laughed, or wake them up with breakfast in bed.

He’s doing that right now. He really wants to make Eliott breakfast in bed.

Lucas doesn’t even know who this dude is. He hasn’t seen him around ever, and he’d like to think he wasn’t _that_ oblivious, he would have recognised that face around school. Lucas also doesn’t think Emma would allow a bunch of randomers into her house. But then again, she was pretty drunk.

He reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulling out his phone and opening the Instagram app. Lucas has no clue what the guy’s surname even is, but if he was at the party they’re bound to have at least a few mutual friends, right?

He navigates the search bar and types ‘ _Eliott_ ’ sifting through the top suggestions, ignoring the profile of what looked to be a 40 year old man. Nothing. He tries again, altering the spelling, but again not having any luck. Pursing his lips in thought, Lucas goes to Facebook and tries again. But it still comes up bare, lots of Eliott’s, but no sign of _his Eliott._

Lucas is somewhat confused. Maybe the knowledge of a surname would be of help.

“Are you not watching?” Manon questions, pulling Lucas out of his thoughts, he hastily locks his phone screen.

“Uh yeah sorry, just tired.”

“It’s nearly over. I think we should call it quits after this one Lisa, don’t you think? It’s getting late,” She decides, peering over Lucas to address Lisa, who only mumbles a grunt in response, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

Manon huffs out a breathy laugh, “Okay…” She nods at Lisa’s lack of cooperation and playfully throws Lucas an amused side look.

Lucas smiles, he really does have the best flatmates. He had missed this sense of normality when things got bad at home - just spending lazy evenings slouched on the sofa, binge watching Netflix and eating popcorn. He wouldn’t give it up for the world.

**...**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There she is, was rlly nervous to post this heh, will try get the next chapter up asap promise. Please leave kudos if u feel like it, it really helps me out!!
> 
> Quote at the beginninging of the chapter is by Antoine de St-Exupéry.  
>    
> come say hi on [tumblr](https://lumierelovers.tumblr.com/) and i also have a [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/sebslouvre) if u prefer!!


	2. srodulv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick note to say that i'm not particularly familiar with the French school system, so apologies for any inaccuracies. also heads up that lucas and everyone else are all in their final year in this, and so is eliott, so that makes them mostly 17/18/19 i'm guessing. it's what imma go with anyways.

« _qui craint de souffrir, il souffre_ _déjà de ce qu’il craint_   _»_

_…_

**Monday 08:44**

Lucas is late. He’s blaming his overbearing tiredness again, the core root of all his recent misfortunes. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

He arrives at his usual bus stop, panting heavily from his brisk speed walking. _There was no way he was going to be that person who runs for the bus._ No way. He’d rather just be late.

Leaning against the window of the bus stop, Lucas takes a second to regain his breath discretely, conscious of the other people waiting around him, not wanting to get judged for his fitness, or rather lack of. He brushes a hand down his jacket sleeve. _He’s still finding damn glitter everywhere._

Although an unpopular opinion, Lucas quite likes Mondays. He’s aware that he mopes about the majority of the time like a bothered puppy who has just been denied their chew toy, but Mondays weren’t all sorrow and gloom. He only has one class, Biology with Imane, then is free the remainder of the day.

In other words, he can isolate himself into the furthest corner of the school library and nap with his head on his backpack. _Sleep._ Lucas has only just woken up thirty minutes ago and he already wants to collapse face first into his sheets again.

As the bus cruises up along the pavement Lucas stands back as all the other passengers get on. The least he could do after subjecting them to his annoyingly loud breathing was let them grab a seat ahead of him.

Once seated on the bus, Lucas pulls out his phone. He has twelve minutes to get to class. It was tight enough, but he would probably make it as long as Mrs Rigaux stopped for a few minutes on her way to class to speak with passing teachers.

He opens up his messages with his father, thinking back to his conversation with Mika yesterday. He should probably sort out the rent situation if he wants to avoid being thrown out onto the streets. Letting out a nervous breath he formulates a text, rewording it three times before hitting send.

**Lucas 08:49**

_Dad the rent money? It’s late again and I need to pay within the next few days or I have nowhere to stay._

Lucas hates contacting him, still bitter over the abruptness of his departure. Leaving his Mother heartbroken. Lucas was angry, and devastated. His Mum had been doing better as well. Taking her meds and attending her therapy sessions, until one day his dad just up and left. Pulling the cloth from under the table, everything once laid out, neat and precise, shattering onto the floor in a crash of arguments and tears. So many tears. Then his mother not leaving her room for nearly two weeks straight.

Those were probably the most emotionally draining weeks of Lucas’ life. Checking in on her constantly, making sure she was eating, drinking, still fucking breathing.

So yeah, maybe Lucas is mad. Mad at his dad for leaving him on his own to carry the burden of his mothers care. But he loves his mother, so he did as much as he could for a long as he could until it got too much. Until he was tired of not sleeping. Tired of the constant dwelling and panic, fearing the worst.

In the end, the safest place for his mother was the clinic, he could get some piece of mind knowing she was getting the right professional help there. Even if it meant Lucas had to give up his place at home and move out. He still worries about her, but he’s trying to do better. So he visits as often as he can, finding sanctuary in her company and comfort in their conversations, but only on the good days. If he happens to visit on a bad day he’ll often leave feeling more anxious and unsettled. But they’re trying, and that’s what matters.

Lucas’ phone buzzes in his hand, he peers down at the reply from his Dad.

**Dad 08:53**

_Okay. Transferring it now._

**Lucas 08:54**

_Thank you._

Alright so maybe he can cross one dilemma off his list of never ending problems. He’ll let Mika know later, maybe buy him a gift for being so damn patient with him. Scratch that, Lucas is definitely buying him several gifts.

The bus eventually pulls up to the stop outside his school and he hurries off, throwing a quick thanks to the driver.

Two minutes to get to class.

**…**

**Monday 09:00**

Lucas slumps into his seat in Biology next to Imane, heaving out a sigh.

“Didn’t think you were gonna show up,” she remarks, eyeing Lucas as he rests his sweaty forehead on the desk in an attempt to steady his breathing. God, he really should think more about improving his stamina, or at least stop being late for everything so he doesn’t have to run everywhere.

“Slept in,” he responds, looking up and noticing their teacher hasn’t arrived yet, just as he had predicted. He quietly thanks whatever God was on his side today, as he really can’t afford another late penalty.

Imane smirks, “I can see that, you look like shit.” And it was way too early for him to keep up with their usual witty banter, so he instead settles with passing her a fed up look, and flipping her a middle finger. Imane only snickers.

Lucas appreciates Imane a lot. The unlikely friendship has kindled when Mrs Rigaux made her switch places with Arthur, after they _accidently_ smashed a rack of test tubes onto the floor during a practical experiment on osmosis. Also, maybe their constant chatter and never paying attention during lessons added fuel to the fire.

He was slightly annoyed to begin with, but he’s starting to see the benefits. He actually listens more now, and Imane is like a Biology wizard, anytime Lucas gets stuck on a question she’s able to help him out. Unlike Arthur, bless his soul, who never had a clue, so would just shrug and tell him to google it.

So although she teases him relentlessly, he’s glad he was able to form a close bond with her. Often confiding in her for advice, finding her perspective and views on things a lot more mature than most people their age.

The classroom door swings open as Lucas is laying his books out on the desk, and Mrs Rigaux speeds in, “Sorry, sorry!  Apologies. I got held up speaking with Mr Belmont,” she pants, dropping a pile of marking onto her desk.

“So the homework? We’ll go through that now, everyone take it out,” she announces once settled.

And _fuck._ Lucas groans internally, “There was homework?” he whispered to Imane in a panic.

“Yes,” Imane pauses, faking a horrified expression, as if in disbelief. “You didn’t do it? I’m shocked, Lucas. Truly.”

Lucas drops his head back onto the desk. He’s fucking screwed.

**…**

**Monday 13:06**

Lucas uses his fork to flick a few rouge peas away from his rice. _Gross._ Not that the rice tastes any better, but he’ll take what he could get. For a school meal it’s only moderately bad.

“You should have seen it boys! We were in there together for thirty whole minutes. Or maybe more I can’t be sure it all happened very quickly.” Basile was rambling on again at the lunch table.

“Dude, I don’t think anyone would want to see you holding back Daphné’s hair as she throws up into the toilet for thirty minutes. Ever,” Yann teases. Lucas wonders if anyone else has gotten sick of hearing about Basile’s pathetic girl experiences, or if it’s just him.

Arthur chimes in, “I think it’s the closest she’ll ever let him get to her, just let him have his one.” Both of them burst into laughter, Lucas only follows along as to not appear completely dead to the world.

“You guys are ruthless, I swear we had a connection!” He slams his fork on the table in frustration. “Sure, Baz,” Lucas pipes up, “We’re just teasing.”

“Yeah, right,” Basile sighs, “But hey! Lulu! What about you and Chloé hmm?” He continues, perking up instantly and throwing a suggestive look Lucas’ way.

Lucas furrows his eyebrows, feeling a bit lost, “Who?” He questions, looking at the boys individually, all looking like they knew something he didn’t.

“The girl you said you liked at the party bro! We met her during beerpong and told her to go talk to you.” Yann explains. “She never found you then?” And _oh,_ Lucas had completely forgotten about that entirely, too focused on _blue_ and _glitter_.

“Uh, no she didn’t. I must have left, didn’t want the police to catch me with the stash,” he says.

They all nod, “Yeah fair enough,” Arthur replies, chewing his apple and then pointing it towards Lucas as he speaks. “But hey! Don’t worry, all is not lost my friend. We’re in the same French Lit class, I’ll throw in another good word for you, bro. She’ll be looking for you again in no time.”

Lucas forces himself to smile. Poor dude, he seems so thrilled with the genius plan he had just devised. Too bad Lucas is going to do everything humanly possible to resist it. “Thanks, man.” Lucas throws back, shoving another forkful of rice into his mouth and chewing.

He peers over to Yann who’s looking at him in curiosity. _Right,_ Lucas kicks himself. Note to self: when your friend promises to set you up with a pretty girl, you should probably appear a little bit more enthusiastic.

 _Whatever_. He’s too tired to worry about that particular issue at this moment in time.

He glances around the canteen aimlessly as the conversation between his friends picks up again, something about _Game of Thrones_. Lucas doesn’t watch it.

Involuntarily zoning out of their chatter seems to be another common reoccurring issue for Lucas, he mentally throws it into the ‘blame it on your lack of sleep and deal with it later’ box.

Lucas’ mouth freezes mid-chew as his gaze falls across a table situated at the far end of the canteen, quite a distance but still easily visible from where he is sat facing it.

He squints, moving his head forward slightly to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. Sure, he’s tired, but he doesn’t think he’s gotten to the point of delirious hallucinations just quite yet.

_It has to be right? That’s Eliott._

Eliott is sitting at the lunch table, surrounded by a group of boys from his year. Lucas recognises most of them from around. But what was Eliott doing here?

As if on command, Eliott looks up from his plate, instantly making direct and purposeful eye contact with Lucas. And _shit_. He’s just as gorgeous as Lucas remembered him. Lucas feels his cheeks radiate heat under Eliott’s intense gaze.

Eliott then does the most adorable, but also the _worst,_ thing he could have possibly done in that moment, and flashes Lucas the fullest, most sincere grin. And Lucas can’t help the wide smile that takes over his own face as he watches Eliott giggle and raise his eyebrows in one quick motion. _He can’t._

Lucas lets out his own breathy laugh.

“What?” Yann’s voice snaps his attention away from Eliott and back to reality.

Lucas composes himself, trying desperately not to look back in Eliotts direction. It takes a lot of self-control. “Nothing,” Lucas beams at them, lifting a pea and flicking it in basile’s face.

“Ah! The fuck?” They all chuckle.

And Lucas doesn’t look back one last time to find Eliott still staring right back, both of them smiling just as softly. He doesn’t. He doesn’t.

_He does._

**…**

**Monday 17:21**

Lucas is spiralling. He’s lying face first on his bed, nose squished into the pillows. He had arrived home from school a while ago, automatically navigating his way straight to his favourite place to be, his bed, and refusing to move.

He can’t stop replaying the entire lunch event in his head. Or lunch  _disaster._ What was Eliott doing at his school? Surely someone wouldn’t transfer to a new school mid-November of their final year. That is if he’s even in Lucas’ year. He has to be though if he was sat with the other guys from his year. But then what would Lucas fucking know?

His head hurts. He’s thinking too much. Plus he has a mountain of Biology homework to catch up on.

With an exaggerated huff, Lucas rolls himself off his bed and plops down at his desk, pulling out his homework. What was that he said about not minding Mondays again? Fuck. 

He’s only just begun reading a passage in his textbook when his phone chimes four times in a row. Leaping at the possible chance of procrastination, Lucas grabs his phone off the bed and opens the messages.

**Le Gang**

**Arthur 17:38**

_Amazing news gang_

_Spoke to Chloé earlier outside French lit_

_And she seems interested_

_Very interested Lulu_

**Basile 17:38**

_YESSSSS GET IN_

**Yann 17:39**

_Sick!_

_Haha Arthur man who’d have thought you’d be the one playing cupid_

**Arthur 17:39**

_It’s my specialty_

**Basile 17:39**

_Think you could do the same for me and Daphné?_

**Arthur 17:39**

_Come on baz I’m not a magician_

**Yann 17:40**

_LMAO_

Lucas groans to himself while reading the chain of texts. He really has got himself into another dilemma then. He only really has himself to blame for that one, though. It’s not like he’s ever objected to his friend’s continuous obsession over his love life.

Although, what irks Lucas the most is that he _knows_ by just telling them the truth, _I don’t like girls,_ would make this all go away, would make his life so much easier. They could all move on and that would be that.

But it’s not that easy. The fact is that Lucas just can’t bring himself to tell them. He doesn’t ever want them to look at him differently. Treat him differently. And what if it makes them uncomfortable? If they think he could potentially develop a crush on them? What if they start second guessing how they act around him?

Lucas can’t have that. He detests change, he’s dealt with enough of it the past couple of months already. He doesn’t need _another_ aspect of his life falling to pieces.

Then there’s everyone else. How would people look at him in the hallways? He’d only be known as ‘The Gay Kid’. Not that he’s _ashamed_ of it. Far from it. Lucas knows who he is, he’s just not sure he’s ready for other people to know yet. And he thinks that’s okay.

He decides against replying to the texts, in favour of returning to his homework. No need to rub more salt into that wound.

His phone buzzes one more time, fully expecting it to be another text from Le Gang, Lucas rolls his eyes, but goes to check anyway, just in case they’re mad at him for ghosting.

Instead he’s met with an Instagram notification.

**_srodulv started following you_ **

Lucas clicks the notification, confused at the unrecognisable username. His heart drops when the photos finally load and he’s met with photos of _Eliott._ It’s Eliott’s profile. Lucas lets out a mini squeal and _damn,_ he was doing that teenage girl thing again, all levels of subtly flying out the window.

He scrolls through the photos, eyes scanning this newfound pot of _gold_ he has just landed on, trying to take in as much as he can at once. God, Eliott really is stunning. Lucas smiles, enlarging one particular selfie of Eliott wearing a black sweater, one earphone plugged in, and it was so _basic._ But _so soft_ and _pretty_.

Lucas is truly fucked.

Before Lucas allows himself to overthink the situation like a pathetic idiot, he scrolls back up and follows Eliott back. There. Done. No big deal. It’s just a damn follow. Throwing his phone back onto the bed, he pushes his chair back towards his desk. He has shit to do.

Maybe Mondays were okay, then. And so what if Lucas messes up his sleeping schedule for yet another night in a row by scrolling through Eliott’s Instagram profile until 3am.

So what? Nobody can prove anything.

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quote at beginning of chapter is by la fontaine. 
> 
> if anyone is wondering what selfie lucas was fawning over, it's the "i don't really remember what weekend feels like" one. yes that one.


	3. vous êtes surprenant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! i hope u enjoy lucas and eliott's first lil adventure :) x

« s _i tu pouvais lire dans mon coeur, tu verrais la place où je t’ai_ _mise »_

_…_

 

**Wednesday 11:28**

Now that winter is fully underway, the crisp leaves that once rested along the pavements of Paris in splashes of amber and gold, currently lie wilted and damp, turning into puddles of mush under the footsteps of roaming pedestrians.

A sharp chill of wind stings the tip of Lucas’ nose as he rounds the corner towards the school gates. He buries his face deeper into his scarf, seeking warmth from the soft fabric.

Winter is Lucas’ least favourite season. He hates being cold, he’s a naturally cold blooded person, somehow always finding it difficult to not be freezing in basically any situation. He’s _that_ person who always had cold hands - something he’s not very thrilled about, or proud of.

Lucas is surprisingly well-rested, which was the first strange occurrence of the day. Although, he had decided to take an extra couple of hours in bed that morning, knowing he wouldn’t have class until after lunch. And  _maybe_ he was also in the middle of a particularly delightful dream, involving a certain pair of blue-grey eyes, which was rudely interrupted by his alarm. So _maybe_ Lucas had decided to take his frustration out on an inanimate object and hit snooze one too many times.

He wanders across the school yard, spotting his friends leaning against a wall beside the science block and approaches them enthusiastically.

“’Sup guys!” Lucas greets, nodding his head in acknowledgement as they respond in a chorus of ‘hellos’ and ‘what’s ups’.

Yann inspects him sceptically, “You look awfully peachy this morning,” He states. Lucas can’t tell if it was meant as a question or rather a statement, acknowledging the obvious.

“Uh, yeah I guess I slept well for once?” He provides, definitely coming out as a question. In truth, he isn’t particularly sure what the influence of his current placid state is.

Maybe it’s due to the fact he was able to sort out the whole rent ordeal, or maybe it’s the newest addition to his Instagram following list. It could have been either of those things, really.

Basile perks up at this, an envious twinge to his words, “Ah bro, lucky for you. I had the _worst_ sleep last night! Couldn’t stop thinking about the French lit test I have next week.”

“You? Worried about a test? Ha!” Arthur cackles in disbelief, shaking his head, “Well, I really have heard it all now.”

Basile huffs in offense, “What? I can do smart things.”

“Yeah sure,” Yann teases with a mocking look.

“I so can! Daphné likes guys who are smart!” He folds his arms defensively.

Arthur purses his lips, “Aaaand… there it is,” he points a finger in the air, as if to say _bingo_ , the explanation for everything Basile does. _Daphné_.

Lucas snorts, feeling slightly bad for Basile. The poor kid is hopeless.

“Hey Baz, I also heard from Emma that Daphné is a big lover of guys who can play an instrument, maybe you should take up the guitar.” Lucas suggests, not wanting to make things worse but also Emma did tell him this once, so he wasn’t going to be the one to withhold information.

“No way! You’re the best man, I’m gonna try that.” He pulls out his phone, “Where to get a guitar,” he reads aloud as he types.

“Lucas, why.” Arthur and Yann shake their heads at him, as he falls into laughter. “Why would he do that?” Arthur questions to himself in horror.

Lucas feels good. He loves engaging in aimless banter with his closest friends. It’s something he misses when he’s in a down mood and isn’t able to hold his focus long enough to even register what they were talking about most of the time.

As they make their way into the main school building, Lucas finds himself subconsciously gazing around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eliott. He’s caught himself doing that everywhere more often than not recently. Even in the corner store when he went to stock up on milk he had thought,  _maybe I’ll run into Eliott here_.

But it’s Wednesday, and Lucas hasn’t seen Eliott since Monday in the canteen. He’s almost started to think he had completely imagined the entire thing. He’s going insane.

They came to a halt by Yann’s locker, who begins fishing around for his history textbook. Lucas doesn’t know how he was able to locate anything it there, random sheets of paper and pens falling to the ground as he frantically searches around.

“Hi guys!” A sudden exclamation from behind causes the four boys to jump from their baffled stances peering into Yann’s locker. They spin around to see Daphné and Imane peering up at them expectantly.

Lucas can vaguely see Basile having an internal heart attack from the corner of his eye and smirks to himself. “Hey Daphy, all good?” Lucas chimes.

“Perfect, Lucas! Thanks for asking,” she beams at him. “We just came to let you all know that we’re beginning the preparations for the end of year leaving party, and would _love_ for you guys to joins us at the committee meeting in the common room, Friday at 4pm.” Daphné rushes out all at once.

Lucas stares at her in bewilderedness. Then glances at the other guys, eyes pleading for someone to say _something_.

“Uh… Daphné not to sound rude, but why are you planning the end of year party already? There is still like six months left of school.” Arthur points out.

Imane and Daphné look to each other, seeming fed up, “Yes, there is six months left of school, but the fact is, in six months we’ll never have to step foot here again, and what do you guys want to be remembered as? The losers who never took part in anything? Just think about that. You don’t want to be forgotten as third years when you leave,” Daphné proclaims. Imane nods in agreement.

“Well we’re actually busy Friday so—” Yann begins, but is interrupted by Basile shoving his shoulder. “I’ll be there Daphné! And I’ll make sure these guys tag along. Don’t you worry,” he exclaims with slightly too much eagerness, throwing her an enthusiastic wink.

“Uh… okay. See you guys then…” she looks thrown off guard, slowly backing away, as Imane tries to supress a giggle.

Once the two have scattered off, the three boys glare at Basile in annoyance.

“Dude what was that?” demands Yann, shoving Basile back, but Basile’s head is still turned, more focused on Daphné wandering down the hallway.

Lucas shakes his head in amazement at the lengths of desperateness his friend is willing to go. “I hope we all agree that we _are not_ going to that dumb meeting,” he speaks aloud. Yann and Arthur nod in agreement.

“100 percent. Not a chance,” Arthur confirms, moving off his leaning position on the lockers and leading them towards the library.

**…**

**Friday 15:54 - 00:42**

They go to the dumb meeting. Mainly because Basile wouldn’t shut up about how they were being bad friends, and _good friends would wingman me in any situation_. And fair enough.

So they all file into the common room and claim their seats in the second row, after being greeted excitedly by Daphné and the other girls.

Lucas checks the time on his phone, they were a few minutes early, and he had a text from his mum.

**Mama 15:49**

_Put on the full armour of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms._

He feels his heart drop in his chest. Messages like these usually only came through when she wasn’t doing well. When she had an overbearing amount of absurd ideas in her head. Lucas’ chest aches. It’s been a while since he went to visit her, getting too caught up in his own life.

So he makes a mental note to go see her next week, hopefully when she’s calmed down a little. He hates himself for it, but he doesn’t think he’s mentally strong enough to witness her spiralling again and not break down himself.

Lucas is shook out of his thoughts when he feels an elbow nudge his side. He glances up from his phone to give Basile an annoyed glare, but then looks forward and sees Chloé grinning at him from the row of seats in front of them. He hadn’t even noticed her when he came in, but she was looking at him as if she had just said something and was waiting for an answer.

She giggles and repeats what she must have said before, “Fancy meeting you here.” And Lucas wouldn’t be confused by an interaction like this normally, only this is literally the first time they have spoken, and he still hasn’t said anything. But Cholé is smiling at him as if they were long lost friends reuniting for the first time in years. And Lucas is uncomfortable to say the least.

He doesn’t want to be rude though, it’s not her fault she was the first girl he happened to see at Emma’s party and pull into his messy lies. He supposes it was just wrong place, wrong time, unfortunately enough for her.

“Uh yeah, I guess.” Lucas tries his best to not look like he’s forcing a smile. But he doesn’t think Chloé even notices as she blushes bashfully and leans forward slightly, hands on the back of her chair in her twisted position.

“I just wanted to let you know I’m throwing a bit of a get together tonight. It’s not really a big party ordeal, more of like an intimate gathering. So you’re welcome to come. If you want. Oh and you can bring your friends obviously!” She speaks rather confidently, gesturing to Yann, Basile and Arthur, who were observing the scene in probably what they thought was subtle excitement, but in reality was far from it. Lucas could smell the amusement dripping from their expressions.

And Lucas had said he didn’t want to be rude, but the sound of attending an intimate gathering at this girl’s house, who he has only spoken three words to in his entire life, does not sound appealing in the slightest.

“Thanks, that sounds good, but uh, we actually already had plans for tonight,” he begins, watching Chloé’s face drop in disappointment.

“Bullshit dude,” Arthur interrupts, “He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Of course we’ll be there!”

Lucas wants to shove him off his seat so badly right now, or for the ground to swallow him up whole.

Cholé’s face lights up again, “Oh good! Great! I can’t wait then. I’ll text you the details later.” She sends Lucas a private smile.

Lucas smiles back despite his agitated mood, this was really not how he wanted to spend his evening. All he wanted to do was order pizza and lounge up on the sofa with Manon and Lisa to finish watching their Netflix show.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to think of something else to respond, as Daphné clears her throat in attempt to get everyone’s attention and begin the meeting. Although, he doesn’t quite escape the confused looks he receives from his three friends.

“Bro what the hell? You _never_ turn down an invitation to an intimate gathering at a hot girl’s house. Ever,” Arthur hisses, leaning over Basile to address Lucas.

Lucas just rolls his eyes. He’s too fed up at this point.

The meeting begins, Daphné introducing each of the girls individually. She seems slightly nervous. Lucas gets it, he also hates public speaking with a passion.

After a few minutes of Daphné rambling on about the importance of leaving high school with a bang, Lucas loses focus. His attention drifting to assess the people around him. His favourite thing to do when he gets bored in these situations.

He watches how some people were gazing at Daphné, fully engaged in what she was saying, while others just like him, seemed to be staring off into space, mind somewhere else entirely. Maybe they had also been forced to tag along by their idiot friends.

But then Lucas almost falls off his chair, because he glances behind him, having to do a double take. There, sitting diagonally from him in the next row, was Eliott. Lucas blinks twice, he definitely wasn’t seeing things.

He forces his head forward again, trying to compose his breathing, before subtly allowing his gaze to find its way back to Eliott. Only this time, Eliott was already staring right back at him, and Lucas was only acutely aware of how fast his heart was beating, holding their eye contact only momentarily before looking away again.

Lucas can  _feel_ Eliott’s eyes still on him, like hot embers burning into the back of his head.

He tries to regain focus back to the meeting, Alexia was now speaking about how they plan on assigning people to roles in order to split the party planning responsibilities.

“So obviously we’ll let people have a say in the roles they would prefer, but if too many people want to do the same thing then we’ll have to come to a compromise,” she goes on. Lucas tries to even out his breathing.

He peers over to Eliott one more time, because he just can’t help himself. It was like he radiated a magnetic force that was specially designed to attract Lucas’ fullest and upmost attention, and Lucas was a sucker for it.

As he expected, Eliott was still gazing at him, eyes searching and amused. Lucas lets himself linger this time, appreciating how Eliott runs his tongue innocently along his bottom lip, as if in deep thought, and how a few strands of hair had flopped softly along his forehead. Lucas wants to run his hands through his hair and feel how the strands would brush along his fingertips like silk.

The longer Lucas looks, the more he notices the tired lines that ghost Eliott’s eyes, the almost invisible purple tint tucked beneath his lashes.  _Almost_  invisible. But Lucas can see.

Lucas is forced out of their staring match when the people around him begin rising from their seats. Was the meeting over already? Surely he wasn’t looking at Eliott for _that_ long. But then again he can’t be so sure. Time seems to become non-existent anytime he’s around Eliott.

But nobody was actually leaving the room, so Lucas stands up as well, not wanting look like the one idiot still sitting.

“What are we doing?” He whispers over to Yann, who now had Emma at his side.

“Bonding exercise, you have to get a partner,” Emma supplies, clearly claiming Yann as her chosen partner.

Lucas glances around the room, everyone scurrying about to find someone to work with. Basile and Arthur were already moving their chairs out of the way to make room for the activity, so there goes that possibility.

Lucas does the maths in his head, everyone he’s close to already paired up. Chloé hasn’t turned around yet, but he can see she was with two of her friends, who had joined together. And _fuck that_. Lucas was not about to get trapped in a bonding exercise with this girl.

So he did the only sensible and rational thing he could think of in a rushed panic. As everyone was distracted finding a pair and moving chairs aside to create room, he slowly backs away and slips out of the common room door into the corridor.

Lucas lets out a heavy breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding in and begins to make his way along the corridor, towards the school exit. Before anyone notices his absence and comes to find him.

The sharp evening air fills his lungs as he ventures outside, trailing his hand absentmindedly along the stone wall lining the yard as he moves towards the gates. He’s so close he can almost _smell_ the freedom.

Lucas feels someone approach him from behind, then, and he swears to himself. It was probably Yann coming to retrieve him, or _worse,_ Chloé.

Instead, as Lucas reluctantly turns around, he’s met face-to-face with dreamlike ocean deep eyes, and a soft smile. And Lucas had missed being this close, he still smells the same as that night in Emma’s kitchen. Lucas only feels slightly like a creep for thinking as such.

“You weren’t feeling the bonding exercise either then?” Eliott speaks gently, with a playful tone to his voice. His eyes are _so_ _bright_.

Lucas gawks at him, brain not being able to work in his favour at this moment in time with Eliott standing so close to him. He can almost feel Eliott’s breath ghosting along his face.

“It was weird,” is all Lucas is able to suffice. And why can’t he fucking function like a normal human being? Eliott turns him into a pile incoherent nervous mush, clearly.

Eliott vaguely moves his head from side to side in thought. “Weird, huh?” His lips stretch into a wide grin. He’s beautiful when he smiles. It does things to Lucas’ heart.

“Yes, weird. Daphné has some colourful… ideas, let’s just say.” Lucas attempts to sound more assured, slowly feeling his brain catch up with his ability to speak again.

They stand in the school yard, only a few metres from the gates for a few seconds, just smiling at each other. Or maybe it was longer, again, Lucas doesn’t know time when it comes to Eliott.

Eliott raises his eyebrows, aiming his head towards the gates, “You coming?”

And _yes._ Lucas has no idea where Eliott was referring to, but he thinks he would follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked him to. They would always gravitate towards each other in the same direction, in any universe, those were the new rules.

So Lucas beams at Eliott as he moves away from him, walking backwards towards the gates, eyes burning into Lucas’ ridiculously, and the most stupid grin on his face.

**…**

They drift aimlessly along the streets of Paris, close but not close enough, Lucas thinks. He wants nothing more than to reach over and let their hands brush softly. Maybe he could play it off as an accident, just to see how it feels.

“Where exactly are we going?” Lucas quizzes, neither of them having said anything yet after a few minutes of walking.

Eliott peers at him sideways, “I can’t tell you that,” he answers shortly.

“You can’t?” Lucas queries in amusement.

He shakes his head, playful smile creeping its way into his face, “Nope.”

“So how do I know you’re not taking me to some creepy underground dungeon, to like, tie me up and slowly torture me to death?” Lucas remarks.

Eliott throws his head back and cackles joyfully, “Oh my god, that’s dark. I promise I’m not a murderer. But I guess you’ll never know if you don’t come with me though, will you?” He explains once his laughter has died down.

Lucas internally slaps himself for being so morbid, “Sorry,” he chuckes, “I’ve been watching too much _Mindhunter_ recently.”

“Ah! I loved that show,” Eliott gushes.

“Yeah? Well no spoilers, I still have two episodes left,” he warns, throwing Eliott a teasing look.

“I would never.”

Lucas hesitates before directing another question at Eliott, “You’re new here?” he asks, referring to their school.

Eliott seems to ponder on his response slightly, “Yeah,” he lightly kicks a pebble that was lying on the pavement with his foot, “Third year, got here two weeks ago.”

Lucas follows the movement with his eyes, “That’s a bit weird, no? Starting a new school halfway through a term?”

“That’s weird too? Everything seems to be weird to you,” he retorts, for once Lucas can’t grasp his mood.

He panics, hoping Eliott isn’t annoyed with him. He didn’t mean it in a rude way, he was just curious. “I didn’t mean—” Lucas begins, voice rushed, but he’s interrupted by Eliott’s chuckling.

“I’m kidding, Lucas.” He looks at Lucas, making eye contact, smile warm and eyes sincere. Lucas lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head lightly, “You scared me.”

Eliott frowns slightly, but his expression still remains warm, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s okay,” Lucas smiles, teasingly, “I forgive you.”

**…**

 

“Here we are.” Eliott comes to an abrupt stop outside an apartment building, completely abandoning the story he was telling Lucas about how his literature teacher had spilt coffee all over his essay earlier that day and now he has to redo the entire thing.

It was a pointless story in theory, and coming from anyone else, Lucas thinks he would have zoned out after two seconds, but he can’t help but hang off every single one of Eliott’s words. He could be speaking about exchange rates and Lucas still thinks it wouldn’t put him to sleep.

Lucas looks up at the building, “Is this… your house?” confused as to why Eliott would bring him here.

“You know Lucas, for someone who appears so shy, you sure do ask a lot of questions.” He shoves his key into the lock and edges the door open.

“You think I’m shy?” Lucas is not impressed, that’s the last thing he wants to come across as to Eliott.

Eliott laughs breathily as they begin climbing the stairs of the apartment building, “That was another question,” he states obviously.

Lucas smiles to himself. He’s only known Eliott for a short space of time, this being their most prolonged interaction. And yet, being with him and joking with him feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“I don’t think you’re shy,” he assures, continuing, “I think you’re intriguing.” And Lucas will take that, he also thinks Eliott is intriguing.

Once they arrive at Eliott’s apartment, he unlocks the door and lets Lucas step inside first. A gentleman then.

Lucas scans the apartment, or what he can see of it from his position by the entrance, as Eliott drops his backpack to the floor and shrugs off his jacket. Lucas follows his lead, ridding himself of his own bag and coat.

“Want a beer?” Eliott asks, and Lucas is sure it’s barely gone 6pm, but who was he to turn down a beer. So he accepts Eliott’s invitation and moves into what seems to be the living room as Eliott heads for the kitchen to retrieve the beers.

The living room is small, but cosy. Lucas glances around, noticing the array of drawings decorating the far wall. He leans forward to get a closer look, they were really good, like amazing, mostly consisting of comical drawings of animals.

Eliott returns, two beers in hand and passing one to Lucas. “Voilà!” He chimes, all too familiar grin reminding Lucas of their first meeting.

“Thanks,” Lucas smiles, accepting the beer happily, then looking back at the drawings. “Did you do these?”

Eliott stands by his side, also facing the wall. “Yeah,” he replies lightly.

“They’re amazing,” Lucas means it, eyes glancing curiously at each doodle, trying to take it all in.

“Thank you,” Eliott continues, “I think I’m getting a lot better at drawing myself.”

Lucas watches him in amusement, “It’s supposed to be you? What is it? A badger, or?”

Eliott giggles,  _God he’s so cute_. “No no! It’s a raccoon, obviously! It’s my spirit animal.” Lucas is still somewhat lost.

“Your spirit animal is a raccoon?” He deadpans, taking a sip of his beer, watching as Eliott’s eyes light up in excitement, like a child on Christmas.

“Well of course. They’re so cool! Plus they wear a mask.” He explains, face radiating pure joy. Lucas wants to take a photo, never wants to forget how Eliott’s face looks when he speaks about something he’s clearly so passionate about.

Lucas feels himself smile, “And what if you were to draw me? What animal would I be?” He doesn’t know where the sudden burst of confidence comes from, he’s just dying to know Eliott’s opinion, really.

He watches as Eliott turns around, now fully facing Lucas as his eyes dances across his face in contemplation. Lucas feels exposed under his intense stare.

Eventually, Eliott purses his lips, head shaking ever so slightly, “I’m not sure.” He raises his beer bottle to his lips, taking a small sip, eyes still focused on Lucas’ own. “I’d have to think about it.”

Lucas lets out a laugh, eyebrows jumping suggestively. Which earns him another beautiful giggle out of Eliott.

Lucas makes it his mission to make Eliott laugh like that for the rest of his life.

**…**

They’re both only a little bit tipsy, Lucas now on his third beer. Eliott had disappeared earlier, returning giddily a few moments later with two joints in hand.

They sat on opposite sofas, either side of the coffee table, passing the first joint between them as music played from Eliott’s record player. Some soft indie shit Lucas has never heard before.

Lucas takes a long drag of the joint, enjoying how the smoke feels swimming deep into his lungs, then escaping out again as he exhales. He feels pleasantly buzzed.

He isn’t sure what time it is, they had been chilling like this for quite a while, drifting in and out of idle conversations. It was nice, he was content.

“So do you live here alone?” Lucas wonders aloud, passing Eliott the joint and watching him inhale slowly, then slant his head back slightly, line of his neck exposed, allowing the cloud of smoke to fall from his plump lips. _Fuck_ Lucas follows every movement, eyes dragging along the sharp edge of Eliott’s jaw. He can’t get enough.

“Yeah, well it was always the plan for me to move out once I finished high school, the deposit was already down on this place before we knew I’d have to repeat the year,” he takes another drag before continuing. “Convinced my parents to let me move in anyway. They’re really only round the corner though so it’s not too bad, mum still cooks most of my meals which is nice,” he finishes, chuckling softly.

“You’re repeating the year?” Lucas furrows his brows in question.

Eliott pushes his head back against the sofa, trying to arrange himself into a more comfortable position as he speaks, “Failed my bac.”

“By much?”

He tilts his head to the side, reaching forward again to pass Lucas the joint, “By nothing. I didn’t go.” And he looks like he doesn’t really want to continue the conversation, so Lucas drops it, accepting the joint and leaning back.

“How about you then?” Eliott perks up, “You live with your parents? Far from here?”

Lucas abandons the joint, letting it fall into the ashtray on the coffee table, deciding to opt for another swing of beer instead. “Uh no, I live in a flat share actually. With Manon, one of the girls at the meeting, her cousin Lisa and also their friend Mika,” he explains, smile finding its way onto his face at the thought of his flatmates.

Eliott seems intrigued, “A flat share? How did you end up there?”

And there it is. Lucas’ least favourite question. Is this how Eliott had felt when Lucas asked about the bac? He hopes not, he wouldn’t ever want to make Eliott feel uncomfortable, even by accident.

“I guess a few things happened. My parents split, things weren’t great at home. Manon and Mika cornered me at a party, told me they had a spare room going. Seemed like the best thing to do at the time,” He provides, trying not to go into too much detail. It’s not really the conversation he wanted to be having while tipsy.

Eliott seems to understand, but questions Lucas further, “You don’t think it was a good idea now?”

Lucas silently wishes he would just go back to teasing him about being shy. “No that’s not what I meant. I guess I just miss my mum sometimes, is all.” He prays Eliott gets the hint and moves on.

Thankfully he does, nodding his head and smiling faintly, before cracking open another beer.

“We should change the music,” he declares, standing up and making his way over to the bookshelf, which was filled to the brim with an abundance of vinyls.

Lucas feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulls it out to see he actually had a few messages. Some from Chloé on Facebook messenger. Lucas swears to himself, he’d completely forgotten about the party.

**Chloé 19:02**

_Hey Lucas! Party is at 8pm, 5 premier street_

**Chloé 19:20**

_Hello?? Are you still coming?_

He glances back up to Eliott, who was still flicking through his record collection, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration as he looks for the perfect album to play. There was no way Lucas was going to abandon a sight like that under _any_ circumstances. So he lets himself be selfish, just this once, and sends Chloé a reply.

**Lucas 19:32**

_Sorry, something came up last minute. Don’t think we’ll make it_

He then navigates his way to his texts, he has a few from Yann.

**Yann 18:43**

_Yo dude where did you disappear to during the meeting? Lol_

**Yann 18:59**

_Did Chloé send you the details of the party?_

**Yann 19:33**

_Are you going to answer?_

_??_

**Lucas 19:35**

_Haven’t heard anything, think it got cancelled._

There. Sorted, he puts his phone onto  _do not disturb_ mode. Not wanting anything else to disrupt his evening with Eliott.

He looks back towards Eliott, who still hadn’t moved away from the bookshelf. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna put on another pretentious indie album. I can’t believe you’re an indie boy,” Lucas shakes his head teasingly.

Eliott spins around, a playful look of disbelief on his face, “You think _I_ like indie?” He points to himself, “I put that on because I thought  _you_ liked indie!” Now directing his finger to Lucas.

Lucas bursts into laughter, “What made you think I liked indie music? Do you think I’m corny or what?”

“You look like someone who would listen to indie.” Eliott shrugs, “So you don’t then?” And Lucas is only mildly offended, shaking his head no.

“What do you listen to then?” Eliott folds his arms in question.

“I prefer more rock’n’roll you know? Nirvana, The Stones, The beatles, The clash.” He smirks up at Eliott, who just rolls his eyes, turning back around to filter through the records.

“What about you then? What do you really listen to?” Lucas asks, Eliott finds the vinyl he had been searching for and throws Lucas a smug smile, “I’ll show you.”

He sets the new record up, turning to face Lucas as the beats of a dubstep track begin to burst through the room. Eliott’s face lights up as he bounces around the room like a fool. Lucas watches in awe as he pumps his arms in the air along with the beat, ridiculously prancing. 

“You’re kidding. Dubstep?” Lucas laughs, trying to control his giggles at the boy’s ludicrous movements.

Eliott eventually falls back into his seat, “I can put on some Queen if you want?” smiling warmly over at Lucas. But Lucas shakes his head, a happy feeling bubbling through him, he doesn’t know what lottery he had won to have the honour of seeing Eliott like this - radiating pure euphoria.

“Its fine,” he smiles back, “I like discovering new things.”

**…**

Lucas really doesn’t know what time it is now. They had somehow found their way onto the same sofa, heads lolled against the back of the headrest, fuzzy and tired.

The music from the record player had fizzled out at some point, vinyl coming to an end. The calming sound of static crackling filling the room.

“Fuck. We should probably change the vinyl,” Eliott mumbles, voice raspy from exhaustion.

Lucas glances over, eyes tracing every detail of his face. He’s pretty. And Lucas is so high right now. His eyes move to Eliott’s soft lips, watching as they close around the joint gently. He wants nothing more than to feel how Eliott’s lips would feel against his own. How they would probably fit together perfectly, how they would be soft but slightly rough at the same time.

He shakes himself out of his daze, “You don’t want to get up do you?” He points out, noticing how Eliott was slumped on the sofa, eyes becoming heavy with every blink.

“Not at all. Nada,” Eliott huffs.

So Lucas takes it upon himself to wander over to the record player and remove the forgotten vinyl, placing it back onto the shelf. He looks down, noticing the piano that sat against the wall. He runs his hand along the closed lid, idea forming in his head.

He glances back to Eliott, who was watching him curiously. “You play?” Lucas questions, lifting the lid to reveal the keys.

“Well I have to say, I do play a killer cover of the Star Wars theme tune,” Eliott chuckles.

Lucas echos his laughter, always finding himself smiling along with Eliott. It’s infectious.

He lowers himself onto the piano stool, tracing his fingertips along the keys lightly, playing a few notes to get his bearings. It had been a while since he last played, not having access to a piano since moving out of this family home. It was something he missed, a form of release he often relied on when things got tough at home. He would play for hours, letting the notes take over his thoughts, consumed by how he was able lose himself and feel at ease, even if it was only for a while.

He must have hesitated for a minute too long, as he hears Eliott’s intoxicating laughter from behind him again. “You know I also have a triangle, if you’d prefer that?” he teases, and he was _so on_. Lucas smirks back, raising an eyebrow in challenge as he spins back around to the piano. He then begins to play.

He starts off slowly, making sure he still remembered the core notes, and then he speeds up, notes falling from his fingers onto the keys in swift movements, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The elegant chimes prance motionless around the room, creating a sense of enclosure. Lucas can’t see Eliott, but he can feel his eyes on him. It feels strangely intense, intimate.

Lucas glances back at Eliott when he gets to a section of the song that was more slowly paced, itching to see his reaction. He’s met by Eliott’s strong gaze, his eyes scorching into Lucas’, face resembling a look of intense amazement and shock. Lucas then moves back to the piano, finding his pace again. Fingers dancing quick and delicately.

Everything feels like _so much_. Playing for the first time in nearly two years, Eliott’s gaze dripping with too many unreadable emotions. Lucas’ heart feeling like it was about to burst.

Eventually, the song comes to an end, notes faltering out slowly as he turns his head, eyes looking up through his eyelashes to meet Eliott’s pretty ones. Eliott, who was still watching him in awe.

“That was insane,” He breathes out, mumbling softly.

Lucas feels his heart miss a few beats as their gaze remains intact. “Well it’s no Star Wars theme tune but…” He whispers back, trailing off, not really knowing what else to say.

Eliott smiles fondly, “You’re surprising,” He states. Lucas definitely isn’t breathing now. Neither of them look away, eyes still locked.

“I like people who are surprising,” Eliott concludes earnestly, eyes radiating so much sincerity and bare emotion, expression stripped naked.

Lucas doesn’t know how to respond to this either, so he hopes his eyes can communicate to Eliott instead how much he feels. Too afraid to mutter it aloud. Not wanting to disturb the gentle silence that had enclosed them within the room, like they were the only people to exist in the world.

So as Lucas returns to the sofa, making a lame joke about how Eliott shouldn’t let his mouth hang open like that, _you’ll start catching flies_ , they laugh together. Mood shifting back to a light innocence.

And Lucas prays that Eliott could read him as much as he thought he was able to read Eliott in that moment of vulnerability, as he allowed himself to become consumed by the piano, gentle notes of ‘ _I Love You’_ by RIOPY, conveying the overbearing sensations that were reeling through him.

Lucas thinks he could. He sees it happening. He thinks he could love Eliott.

**…**

 

“It’s getting late.” Lucas mutters, head resting on the armrest of the sofa, Eliott now sprawled out on the floor between the sofa and coffee table.

“Yeah,” he whispers, sounding almost like a breath. He wasn’t moving though, and as much as Lucas wants to stay here in Eliott’s company forever, he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome.

“I should probably go. Don’t want my flatmates to worry,” Lucas speaks reluctantly, not really having faith behind his words. He really doesn’t want to leave.

Eliott glances up at Lucas from his position on the floor and smiles lazily, clearly seeming on the verge of passing out, “Okay.” He was maybe thinking the same thing as Lucas, _please don’t go, even though I know you probably should_. Or at least Lucas hopes that’s what he’s thinking.

They both eventually force themselves up, stretching out their stiff limbs. Eliott giggles tiredly as his back cracks, “Fuck I’m really exhausted.”

Lucas gathers his things by the door, probably taking longer than necessary. He wants to milk as much time out of Eliott as he possibly can.

“Thanks for having me,” Lucas smiles as he stands on the welcome mat outside Eliott’s apartment.

Eliott returns the smile, “No problem, I had a really good time. We should do it again.” And _yes_ Lucas can get on board with that.

“Me too. Whenever you want,” he replies sincerely, smile growing in tune with Eliott’s.

“Cool,” Eliott mumbles.

Lucas takes this as his cue to leave, beginning to move off from his halted position. But Eliott reaches out then, grabbing his upper arm and turning him back around to face him. His eyes searching Lucas’ face then he move to his hair. Lucas watches closely, cheeks heating under his gaze. Eliott moves his hand up, pinching a lose strand of Lucas’s hair, inspecting it closely before retracting just as quickly, looking Lucas up and down once more before smiling softly.

“Bye, Lucas.” And before Lucas can think, Eliott is gone, apartment door clicking shut behind him.

Lucas is definitely not breathing.

**…**

As Lucas makes his way home, he pulls his phone out. Turning off _do not disturb_ and watching the string of texts fly in.

**Chloé 19:56**

_Why are you lying? Yann messaged me_

**Chloé 20:03**

_Are you just going to ignore me now?_

_Hello??_

**Chloé 20:11**

_Fuck you Lucas_

 

**Yann 19:48**

_Just spoke to Chloé and she says it’s not cancelled?? What are you playing at??_

**Yann 20:03**

_Lucas??_

Lucas groans, switching his phone off altogether. He’s too tired for this. He can deal with them on Monday.

For now, he lets the cool air brush along his skin, cooling the warmth Eliott left there as he wanders home. Still feeling the brush of Eliott’s fingertips in his hair, the way he looked at him fondly. Lucas can’t help the smile that falls onto his lips. He can’t help, or believe how deep he’s in now, but he also can’t bring himself to care.

He’s  _happy._

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quote at the beginning of the chapter is by gustave flaubert.
> 
> when i said Lucas was a cold blooded person i think we all Know where i plan to go with that one :)
> 
> thanks for all the support on the previous chapters, it means a lot <3


	4. vous êtes le seul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! i try to correlate the lil quotes with the theme of each chapter, so this one I'm particularly excited about heheh. Pls enjoy <3

« _Le seul vrai langage au monde est un baiser »_

…

 

**Saturday 12:27**

Lucas is rudely awoken by a commotion of unnecessarily loud noises coming from the kitchen. He rubs his eyes lazily, body still heavy with sleep, twisting around under his duvet, which had irritatingly managed to entangle itself around his legs during the night.

He lies there for a few moments, allowing his half asleep brain to duly register its surroundings. He can hear Mika’s boisterous babbling, with Manon’s voice interjecting every so often. There’s music playing idly in the background, but Lucas can’t make out the song with his head still partially in sleep mode.

Sighing and rolling over to obtain his phone, Lucas checks the time. He’d slept in quite late, exhausted from his late night with Eliott and his inefficient attempts at trying to fall asleep once he had arrived home. Not being able to stop his mind running through every single detail of the entire evening at a hundred miles per hour.

Lucas smiles to himself like a fond idiot, remembering how _easy_ things were with Eliott. How their conversations flowed so naturally. Even when they sat together in congenial silence, it was never uncomfortable. Each of them content with just _being_ , existing in each other’s company.

Lucas goes to his phone contacts and scrolls down to ‘E’, admiring the new addition there. _Eliott_. They had exchanged numbers at some point during the night. Lucas can’t exactly remember when, but he’s glad his tipsy self was able to do at least one functional thing for him.

He clicks on the message icon, contemplating sending a text. That wouldn’t be weird right? Lucas doesn’t want to come across as _too_ forward. But was also _dying_ to have some form of interaction with the boy again. It was like after experiencing how it felt to be in Eliott’s presence alone once, having his undivided attention, Lucas doesn’t think he would be able to operate another day without it ever again.

He stares down at his phone in serious deliberation.

_Don’t do it._

His fingers hoover over the keyboard.

_You’re better than this. At least wait another few hours._

_Love yourself._

Lucas sends the damn text— ignoring the rational and laidback ‘ _I have game, I can play hard to get_ ’ region of his brain— because he has no self-control whatsoever, clearly.

**Lucas 12:35**

_Hey! Yesterday was cool. You doing anything later?_

Eliott’s reply comes an entire minute later, and in theory it’s not a long length of time whatsoever, but Lucas feels like hours have gone by as he rereads his message over and over. Regretting his overuse of punctuation. Fuck. Eliott’s going to think he’s a complete loser.

But Lucas feels his cheeks ache as he reads Eliott’s first text. Burrowing his head further into his duvet to cover his blush, as if Eliott would be able to feel it through the phone.

**Eliott 12:36**

_Yeah, last night was nice :)_

A few seconds later, his phone buzzes a second time, and Lucas hasn’t read a text so quickly in his life.

**Eliott 12:36**

_But I’m actually busy today sorry, see you Monday though?_

Lucas won’t deny the sinking disappointment in his stomach. _Well that’s what you fucking get, then_. He groans, planting his face nose down on his pillowcase. He mentally congratulates himself for simultaneously being ignorant _and_ an overly avid idiot, ignoring his own rationale.

He was beginning to spiral into another over-contemplating, self-wallowing mess when a sudden knock comes from his bedroom door. Mika waltzes in way too chipper for Lucas’ current self-deprecating mood.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance, face representing the complete polar opposite of amused, “You know knocking doesn’t count if you come straight in without waiting for a response.”

Mika chuckles, ignoring Lucas’ obvious dissatisfaction and flopping himself onto the bed, body landing right on top of his legs, “Baby steps, kitten, baby steps.”

Lucas shoves him over, freeing his legs and sitting up so his back was rested against the headboard. Puffing out a childlike huff. Fuck Eliott and his busy life that has no time for Lucas.  _He’s kidding_. Like the dramatic loser Lucas naturally is. He also really needs to stop using the people in his life as scapegoats for his own deeply ingrained personal issues. It was becoming quite the predicament.

“I just came to check you were still alive in here, it’s nearly lunchtime, sleepyhead,” Mika teases again, now sitting cross-legged on the foot of Lucas’ bed.

Lucas smiles at him sarcastically, “Yes, well now you see I am. So…” He raises his brows, lips pursed as if to say,  _go now please I want to be alone in my self-pitying cave._

But Mika was taking no hints, and looks at Lucas complacently. Lucas is in no mood to be putting up with such absurdities at this moment in time.

“You got in pretty late last night...” he states, trailing off and running his fingers aimlessly along the edge of the duvet.

Lucas stumbles slightly, “Uh. Yeah was at a party with the guys uh, so…” He looks anywhere but at Mika. Lucas knows he’s the worst liar on earth, his eyes always being the first dead giveaway.

“A party huh?” Mika hums curiously, before continuing with a twinge of caution to his voice. “Just that Yann messaged me last night asking if you were home, he said you were supposed to go to a party together but nobody could get in contact with you.”

Lucas curses himself for being such a naïve and inconsistent liar, thinking his friends wouldn’t communicate beyond him to suss out the truth. Rule number one of lying: make sure the people you’re lying to aren’t liaising with one another behind your back. Which is what got Lucas in this mess in the first place. Or maybe he’s doing that blame shifting thing again.

He only really has two options here. He could lie again, make up some story about how he got held up at something, but he had met up with Yann eventually and then they went to the party together. Or, he could tell Mika the real reason he got home so late, that he had spent the night serenading and laughing with the world’s prettiest boy.

And somehow Lucas finds himself doing something he never thought he would do. Maybe it was a sudden burst of last minute confidence, or maybe he was just dying to gush about Eliott out loud, only having ever voiced these thoughts in his head. Lucas doesn’t know. But it just happens.

“I met someone.” He mumbles after a while, finally glancing over at Mika.

Mika looks shocked at Lucas’ sudden change in mood, or pleasantly surprised, Lucas can’t really tell. “Oh?” He urges him to continue. Lucas doesn’t know how to.

He shakes his head faintly, wanting to elaborate, “Well we’re not like _together_. But we hung out last night and yeah, it was nice.”

“But you like them?” Mika questions, speaking genuinely. Lucas is immensely hyper aware of his use of the gender neutral term, his palms becoming involuntarily clammy in their position under the duvet.

What comes out of Lucas’ mouth next is something he hadn’t planned on doing when he woke up this morning whatsoever. He thinks Mika is almost as shocked as he is as the words fall from his lips in almost a whisper.

“Yeah, he’s cool.”

Lucas meets Mika’s gaze. So this is what coming out feels like. Not that he’d actually said the words, _I’m gay_. But he thinks Mika gets it. It was enough.

Mika smiles, expression light and earnest, “That’s amazing Lucas, really. I’m happy for you.”

And Lucas believes him. He’s now fully aware of how fast his heart had been beating, not because he thought Mika would react in a negative way. (He’s gay himself for God’s sake.) But it’s the first time Lucas has ever let that part of his life venture beyond his own thoughts. It feels good, he thinks, like a heavy weight has been released from his shoulders.

He returns Mika’s smile, “Thanks. I uh, haven’t told anyone before,” still feeling overwhelmingly nervous.

“Well thank you for telling me, and trusting me with that,” he was still looking at Lucas with so much sincerity. Lucas thinks of how he’s probably done this a million times.

 _Please tell me it gets easier_ _, I feel like I can’t breathe._

Mika must pick up on his slight panic, “Hey, look at me.” He continues, placing a reassuring hand on Lucas’ knee and ducking his head to force his eyes to meet his own. “I’m not going to say anything to anyone. Don’t worry. That’s your thing to tell. I would never, _could never_ take that away from you. I promise.”

Lucas can feel his eyes begin to well up. He was _not_ about to cry right now. He truly doesn’t know what he would do without Mika, he really was a constant rock for him, no matter how much he gets on his nerves sometimes.

In that moment, all Lucas is able to suffice is a sincere smile, not trusting his voice enough to speak without becoming a blabbering mess. So he hopes when he smiles at Mika past his tears that he understands just how much this meant to him. How much he needed to hear those words. He prays Mika can feel his gratitude.

“Come on,” Mika chirps, hand squeezing Lucas’ knee, “Manon made us pancakes.”

Lucas is thankful for the subject change, he’s not sure if he could handle anymore heavy emotions today. Or for a while.

“Pancakes sound good.” He smiles, trying to swallow past the lump that had nested itself in his throat.

Mika hops off the bed, “I’ll let you get yourself sorted.” He begins to make his way out of Lucas’ room.

Lucas exhales, watching him retreat before calling out, “Mika?” Mika turns to face him, smile soft, “Thank you.” Lucas doesn’t exactly know what he was thanking him for. Everything he thinks. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words even if he tried.

Mika nods at him knowingly, “I have your back. You know that right?”

Lucas knows. He does. “Me too.” He says, because he really would take a bullet for Mika, any day of the week.

He hasn’t even been awake for an hour yet and he was already exhausted. But he thinks that’s okay. He may be completely emotionally drained, but it doesn’t even come close to overshadowing the feeling of his mind becoming that little bit lighter. Being able to pass part of the constant burden he feels onto someone else, if even just a fraction.

It feels nice. Lucas doesn’t feel so alone.

**…**

**Sunday 20:07**

Lucas is curled up on the armchair in the living room with his three flatmates squished together on the sofa, finally watching the last two episodes of _Mindhunter._

He pulls the blanket he had stolen from Manon’s room further to his chin, moving his feet more under himself. He’s  _cold_ again. He is also tired, eyes feeling heavier with every minute that went past. But he forces himself to stay awake, not wanting to miss anything after Eliott’s mention of also liking the show. He could maybe even use it as an excuse to text him again. Or to find him on Monday and watch how his eyes would light up as they share their thoughts, allowing himself to become fully compelled by Eliott’s melodic voice.

The thought of returning to school on Monday worried Lucas slightly. He hasn’t spoken to his friends yet since ghosting them on Friday night, and they haven’t tried to contact him either. The _Le gang_ groupchat left untouched all weekend.

Lucas thinks they’re probably mad at him. Probably created their own separate groupchat to talk about how much of an asshole he was. He really only brought that on himself though, there are so many other ways he could have handled that situation. He’s going to have some major damage control to initiate in the morning.

He glances over to Mika, who has his head rested on Lisa’s lap and his feet sprawled over Manon’s. He thinks about the conversation from the morning before. When he told Mika he likes a boy. Lucas thought admitting something as significant as that would have caused him to freak out more, to run back to Mika an hour later and claim he was joking. Take it all back.

But the truth is, Lucas wouldn’t take it back for the world. It felt right. He isn’t sure if his lack of panic was due to the fact he could trust Mika wouldn’t say anything, spread it around his school like wildfire until the entirety of Paris knew that Lucas was gay, unlike some people would. He knew his secret was safe in Mika’s hands.

That doesn’t ease the anxiety that surges through him when he thinks about telling other people, like Yann. Yann who he’s been best friends with since preschool, who knows Lucas’ life inside out, _or most of it_. And maybe that’s where the difference lies. He grew up with Yann, spent most of their childhood together. Whereas he’d only known Mika for a matter of months.

Yann is the last person Lucas wants to start treating or looking at him differently. Because they’re so close, always telling each other everything, from Lucas’ struggles with his parents to Yann’s problems with Emma as their relationship began to sink. And Lucas doesn’t want to lose that. He _can’t_ lose that. By telling Yann he’s putting so much at stake and he hates the thought of making himself vulnerable to that.

So he can’t. At least not yet, not until he’s ready. The problem is Lucas doesn’t know if he could ever be ready for that. To lose his best friend.

Lucas is trailed out of his thoughts when he feels his phone vibrate from his front hoodie pocket. He frees an arm from under the blanket to allow himself the room to pull out his phone.

And Lucas can’t be held accountable for the overdramatic grin that pulls at his lips when he sees Eliott’s name light up his screen. Lucas opens the message, seeing Eliott had sent him a short 9 second video.

**Eliott 20:28**

_(video link)_

_Made me think of you_

The video is a ridiculous clip of a cat playing the piano. Lucas watches it without sound, not having his earphones handy and not wanting to annoy his flatmates who were watching the TV.

He feels his heart swell, giddiness pulsing through him as he reads over Eliott’s words. _Made me think of you_. Eliott was thinking about him. Lucas wants to scream. His cheeks hurt from how wide he was smiling, felt like he was about to have a heart attack right then and there.

**Lucas 20:30**

_Hahaha_

_Is that my spirit animal then? The cat?_

**Eliott 20:30**

_No way!! Definitely not a cat_

_Still thinking about it_

**Lucas 20:31**

_Well don’t think for too long I’m not very patient_

**Eliott 20:32**

_You can’t rush perfection Lucas_

Lucas thinks if he smiles anymore his face may just combust. What did that _mean?_ Was Eliott calling _him_ perfection or was Lucas reading too into it?

“You okay Lucas?” Lucas’ head shoots up. He probably looks like an animal who had just been exposed under headlights as he realises Mika, Manon and Lisa had all been staring at him. He wonders how long they were watching him obliviously smiling down at his phone like an idiot.

“Yeah all good,” he replies, seeing the smug, knowing look plastered across Mika’s face.

He narrows his eyes at him in defensive, as if to say _what? Try me asshole_. But then they smile at each other. Because how could Lucas really be annoyed with Mika? After yesterday, and every other time he’s put himself in an undesirable situation to help Lucas, like with the rent. How this would have been the perfect opportunity to tease Lucas, ask who he had been texting, who had caused the blush to rise along his cheeks.

But Mika doesn’t. And that’s how Lucas knows he can trust him.

**…**

 

**Monday 08:36**

Lucas needs a swearing jar. Only it’s not for swearing it’s for every time he thinks about how tired he is. He could have probably saved up an entire year’s worth of rent by now.

The culprit of today’s exhaustion was Eliott, who he’d stayed up until two in the morning texting with. Not that Lucas was complaining, Eliott could push him off a cliff and Lucas would probably take all the blame. He was very much completely smitten.

He was rummaging through his locker for the Biology assignment he shoved in there last week and forgot about. He had approximately twenty three minutes until his class started and so twenty three minutes to start, and also finish his assignment. Lucas was a pro at self-sabotage.

Although, before he has the chance to shut his locker and move towards the library, he sees his three friends make their way through the school entrance, chatting casually between themselves.

They come to a halt in front of Lucas, and he’s only moderately nervous. Which is a win.

“’Sup dude.” Yann nods, reaching his arm out for a fist bump, and okay, this could be worse.

But then Basile huffs out an agitated breath, eyes daggering into Lucas’, “Dude. What the hell was that the other day? You completely blew us off!”

Yann and Arthur glare at Basile, like they had formulated a sensible plan to deal with the situation and he had just blew it. Not being able to control his irritation.

“Baz.“ Arthur warns, trying to silently tell him to stop talking with his eyes. But Basile continues, “No dude! It was going to be such a good night! There were so many hot girls there!”

Lucas would feel worse only maybe he did those girls a favour, he’s not sure Basile realises how uncomfortably forward he can be sometimes.

He passes them a sincere apologetic look anyhow, “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I should have texted but something happened and I got stressed. I really am sorry.”

“Is everything okay?” Yann questions, he looks genuinely concerned and Lucas hates himself for what he says next.

“Just stuff with my mum.” Because he knows it will stop them from asking questions, knowing it’s something he doesn’t enjoy talking about.

An understanding look falls over Yann’s face, holding Lucas’ gaze shortly. Curious.

Basile speaks up again, “Well you could have still sent us the address.” Still holding a grudge.

“Bro just drop it,” Arthur interrupts, “It didn’t look that good anyways. We’ll go to the next one. Right, Lucas?”

Lucas smiles at them, “Right.” He hopes they can’t see through his apprehension. But if they do they don’t mention it as they smile back, he even earns a grin from Basile. So he’ll take it.

Lucas now has seventeen minutes to finish his assignment.

**…**

 

**Monday 12:54**

Lucas is hastily making his way to the canteen to meet his friends for Lunch, he wants to get there quickly before they run out of chocolate pudding pots, when he runs into Eliott. Nearly knocking Lucas backwards onto his ass with the force of their collision, if it wasn’t for Eliott’s strong arms reaching out and grounding him.

He looks beautiful. He’s wearing a black hoodie, which was slightly too large on him, sleeves falling over his hands. Which is ridiculous, Lucas thinks, how does someone so tall even manage to pull off such oversized clothing? He wonders how big the thing would be on himself. How it would smell of Eliott as it hung loosely from his smaller frame.

Eliott’s bright laughter sinks him back down to reality. Right. They aren’t actually together. He can’t just steal Eliott’s hoodies whenever he feels like it.

“I’m so sorry!” He giggles, “Didn’t mean to stampede you.”

And _my god_  has Lucas missed that giggle. Conspicuously so.

“It’s fine. Think it was more my fault to be honest, got a bit excited for lunch.” Lucas loses himself probably a bit too deep in Eliott’s gleaming eyes.

And this is where any normal person would excuse themselves and move on. Chocolate pudding pots to attend to and all that. But Lucas has already established that he couldn’t function like a normal human being around Eliott.

Eliott let out a breathy laugh, eyes casting down to the floor momentarily. _Was he nervous?_ Lucas can relate. Although the nerves he felt around Eliott were nice nerves. One’s that made him fuzzy inside. Because being around Eliott was the most comfortable thing in the world, no matter how nervous he made him. He likes that feeling.

“So, how was your weekend?” Eliott asks, finally looking up, meeting Lucas’ eyes.

“It was chill. You?” Lucas smiles genuinely, he wants to know everything about Eliott’s weekend. He wants to know every single detail about him.

Eliott nods, smile still tugging at his own lips, “Same. Chill.”

And now they’re just making conversation for the sake of it, Lucas thinks. Neither of them wanting to leave each other quite yet.

So Lucas keeps talking, “Any updates on my spirit animal?”

This earns him the most breathtakingly beautiful giggle from Eliott, followed by the cutest pout, “I told you, you have to be patient!”

“Okay but you’re kind of milking it now, can’t you just choose one!” Lucas teases him.

Eliott shakes his head purposefully, “Nope.” He looks more serious now, more determined, “I have to get it right.”

Now he’s staring at Lucas again with that intense, emotion filled gaze that Lucas can’t fully put his finger on. But he thinks he likes whatever it is. It makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter up into his heart. He hopes they’re comfortable in there, because Lucas doesn’t think he’ll be kicking them out anytime soon, as long as Eliott is still looking at him like he’s the only person in the room.

Lucas’ stomach gargles suddenly and he places a hand over it in embarrassment, “Oops. That would be my cue for lunch.” And he really doesn’t want to go, fuck normal human anatomy, but he’s _starving_.

Eliott nods, another laugh slipping past his lips, “Of course.” He licks his bottom lip, and Lucas follows the movement like a cat chasing a rope. _God he is gorgeous_.

“See you, Lucas.” He smiles one last time, stark eyes swimming with softness.

“See you.” Lucas responds so gently it comes out as a whisper, as they force themselves to break their gaze and move apart, going in their separate directions.

Only what Lucas doesn’t know, is that as he makes his way down the hallway towards the canteen, Eliott stays put, frozen in time as he watches Lucas go. Heart beating just as fast as Lucas’ is as he waits in line for his food. Both still thinking about how the other had smiled, blue eyes meeting even bluer. Heart reaching, yearning for the other’s.

But Lucas wouldn’t know.

**…**

 

**Friday 16:04**

Friday brought along another party planning meeting, much to Lucas’ dismay. But this time it was only Alexia, Daphné, Chloé and himself present. He’s not going to comment on that last part.

Apparently, after he left last week he was enrolled for the riveting job of venue organising and decorating along with the three girls. Which Imane had kindly told him, making sure he would actually show up. Lucas did, because quite frankly he was afraid of what Imane would do if he didn’t.

Chloé is shooting him daggers with her eyes from across the table they were all crowded around in the common room, as Daphné laid out photos of all the potential venues she had in mind. He’s not sure if she’s trying to be discrete with her animosity or not. Because she definitely _wasn’t_ being discrete.

Daphné holds up the first photo, “So option number one, what do we think? Yes or no?”

Lucas looks at the photo, it was very fancy, definitely way too posh for a bunch of teenagers to pile into and get completely pissed.

“No,” Lucas says, “Too posh.”

Chloé perks up. “Well I like it,” she retorts in a childlike manner, probably only saying it to contradict with Lucas, he wants to roll his eyes.

“I also quite like it,” Daphné says.

Alexia shakes her head, “No, I agree with Lucas. It looks like a wedding reception, Daph.”

Daphné sighs in defeat “Well we can’t disagree on all of them! This would be so much easier if Eliott had actually shown up, then there wouldn’t be an even number.” And Lucas’ ears burn at the mention of Eliott. He was supposed to be here? Where is he?

Lucas misses him. He hasn’t seen him since their encounter on Monday. He’d also sent him a text on Tuesday night, asking if he wanted to hang out again. But has had no reply since. He would be more annoyed if he’d actually seen Eliott around school, which he hasn’t, his attendance seeming awfully hit and miss.

So if anything Lucas is more worried. He hopes nothing bad has happened. It was probably just a cold or something - Lucas also struggles to keep on top of his messages when he’s ill. It’s no big deal, he shouldn’t overthink it.

“Who’s Eliott?” Alexia questions.

Daphné gasps in mock horror at this. “You don’t know? Girl, he’s the new third year, he was literally at the meeting last week! How did you not see? He’s _insanely_ hot!”

And Lucas agrees, Eliott _is_ insanely hot. Especially when he’s sprawled out on his sofa, eyes soft from exhaustion, loose t-shirt riding up ever so slightly to reveal the creamy skin of his abdomen. But also _stay away_ , _thank you._ That was for Lucas to selfishly know only.

As if he could hear them conspiring about him, the door of the common room swings open and Eliott rushes in frantically apologizing, “Sorry, sorry. I’m really late. Had a meeting with the principal, he talks for ages.”

Eliott drops into the seat closest to Lucas, looking over and smiling, “Hi.” He directs it only at Lucas, ignoring the other girls. He was out of breath, probably from his rush to get here.

“Hey,” Lucas replies, also out of breath. Not that he had ran anywhere, Eliott just likes to steal all the air from his lungs only by looking at him.

“Oh good you’re here, Eliott!” Daphné gushes, “This is perfect, now we can do a proper vote.”

Eliott nods. Appearing vaguely thrown off guard by Daphné’s enthusiasm, but smiles in amusement. It’s so fucking unbelievably adorable.

It goes like that for a while, Daphné holding up photos of venues and everyone giving their input. Chloé becomes only slightly less hostile towards him. He can’t stop looking over at Eliott.

Eventually, they get to the last photo, and Lucas is relieved, he would really love to get home about now. Only he forgot he was in the presence of Daphné, who takes her party planning _very seriously_.

“Okay we’ll take a five minute break or so. Then we can start on coming up with a colour theme for the decorations. But I’m dying for the bathroom!” She laughs nervously when she admits the last part.

“Ugh girl same! Like this entire time.” Alexia groans, as they stand up and move to leave, Chloé also following because when don’t girls migrate to the toilets in packs?

Lucas and Eliott are left alone in the common room, a comfortable silence falling between them for a few brief moments before Eliott speaks up.

“Sorry I never relied to your text.” He sounds apologetic, nervous.

Lucas peers over at him, noticing how worn out he looks. The usual soft edges of his eyes were rigid, mouth turned down slightly in a frown. And Lucas wants to reach over and close the short distance between them. He wants to wrap Eliott in a warm hug and hold him there forever. _Please don’t ever be sad_.

“It’s okay. Really,” Lucas says, and he means it. Sure he was thrown off by Eliotts lack of response, but seeing him like this, he knows Eliott must have had his reasons.

“Just, I had a bit of a problem. But it’s all better now,” he smiles only slightly.

Lucas sends him a reassuring look, “I understand.” Because he does, and he wasn’t going to pry. He also has shit going on his life that he doesn’t feel like pouring out to Eliott right now.

This seems to get Eliott to perk up a little, “I’m really not looking forward to the second half of this meeting. It’s torture,” he jokes.

Lucas rolls his head back and groans, laughing along with Eliott, “Tell me about it. Like how long can it take to choose a colour theme? Just pick a damn colour!”

Eliott hums, watching Lucas exultantly, “Hmm. Yeah I forgot how impatient you are.”

Lucas gasps, placing a hand to his chest in offender, but then bursts into a fit of giggles because how can he _not_ when Eliott is smiling at him like that?

“We should get out of here,” Eliott decides abruptly, standing from his seat.

Lucas watches him in confusion, “What? Right now?” He looks behind him towards the common room door. The girls hadn’t returned yet.

“Yeah. While they’re gone.” Eliott raises his eyebrows suggestively, face representing that of a disobedient child who was just itching to break some rules.

And Lucas wasn’t going to object to that. So he grabs his bag and jacket from the back of his chair and follows Eliott out of the common room.

They hurry down the hallway, and out into the yard, speed picking up as they approach the school gates. They run alongside each other until they round a corner further down the street, coming to a stop against the wall, breaths heavy, panting out strangled giggles as they try to ease their loud panting and stammering hearts.

“Fuck,” Lucas lets out, still feeling on an absolute high of adrenaline. He hasn’t done anything this exciting in ages. “We’re really making a habit out of escaping these meetings.”

Eliott knocks his head back against the wall they’re leaning on, letting out another laugh. Lucas watches as his neck becomes exposed, thin coat of sweat painted along it from their run. _Fuck._ Lucas wants to tuck himself into Eliott’s side and run his tongue along it. His eyes hung droopily, watching lustfully as Eliott shuts his eyes and runs his tongue along his lips. Lucas also wants to taste Eliott’s lips, they were probably faintly salty from the sweat.

Eliott opens his eyes and Lucas tries to avert his gaze as quickly as he can, but probably not quick enough as he sees Eliott smirk, catching Lucas’ lingering stare.

“So what now?” Lucas asks, wanting something else to focus on other than the tingling feeling he felt blossoming inside of him.

 _Stop that_. _Stupid uncontrollable feelings._

Eliott smiles widely, pushing off the wall and moving along the pavement, urging Lucas to follow him, which he does. Of course.

“Now, the night is ours.” He grins back at him, eyes dressed as a million different versions of happy.

Lucas likes the sound of that.

**…**

 

**Friday 17:08**

The evening breeze tickles Lucas’ face. He curses himself for not wearing his scarf today, his nose is going to make him regret that later.

He watches as Eliott paces alongside him, consciously making sure to not tread over any of the cracks lining the pavement. Because “ _It’s bad luck, Lucas. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that?”_ And Lucas knows that, he just isn’t a very superstitious person. He’s broken plenty of mirrors in his life and things look pretty good for him from where he’s standing. With the most entrancing and bright-eyed boy by his side.

Lucas has no idea where they’re going, he was just following Eliott. A common theme with them, which Lucas doesn’t detest whatsoever. He sometimes feels like Eliott has him in a trance, trapped in how his eyes sparkle and how the sound of his sweet laughter has engraved itself deep inside Lucas’ heart. Lucas loves the space Eliott has created for himself there, in Lucas’ heart.

“Who was the girl silently killing you with her eyes back there?” Eliott speaks suddenly, breaking the strong silence that had overcome them over the past couple of minutes.

It takes Lucas a moment to register his words, glancing over to see Eliott still inspecting the ground as he walks, avoiding the pavement cracks.

“You mean Chloé? Fuck.” Lucas shakes his head, letting out a breath. _Where does he start?_

Lucas wants to choose his words carefully. What is Chloé to him anyway? He certainly can’t tell Eliott she’s the girl he told his friends he has a crush on, but he doesn’t really, because it was in fact _Eliott_ who had his heart doing summersaults that night. _No way_. That would be singlehandedly the most idiotic thing Lucas could let escape his month. And he’s done a lot of idiotic things the past few weeks.

“Uh, I guess my friends tried to set us up. I was supposed to go to a party at hers but blew her off. Now she’s mad.” He settles with, watching to see Eliott’s expression, but it never changes, still looking to the floor.

_Tell me what you’re thinking._

Lucas continues talking, because he’s still an overcompensating idiot at heart and the last thing he wants is for Eliott to think he’s into Chloé in any shape or form.

“I think she was fed some false information, because she’s definitely way more into me than I am into her. Which is zero.” Eliott finally looks up at this, watching Lucas intently.

“Zero, huh?” He smiles faintly, and Lucas nods, trying to convey through his eyes how he was feeling.

_I like you so much more than her, she doesn’t even come close to being in the same continent._

Eliott looks forward, nodding to himself, a small breath escaping his lips, “Okay.” Lucas will be damned if that didn’t look like Eliott was expressing relief.

They slow down as they approach the gates to a park, one Lucas has been to on countless occasions with his mates to kick around a football or just generally mug about like idiots. Lucas is confused as to why Eliott would take him here. _He’s cold, okay_. He would much prefer to spend his evening cooped up in Eliott’s cosy apartment, maybe light some candles, have Eliott give him a back massage. _Yes_ that sounds like a much more striking plan, if Lucas doesn’t say so himself. He mentally pats himself on the back for devising such a genius series of events.

Eliott leads him into the park, but they wander past all the usual spots Lucas would usually situate himself. The park was oddly vacant. But not too oddly enough, Lucas thinks, as it was fucking freezing and anyone in their right mind would be bundled up in several blankets within the comfort of their own homes currently.

Meaning Lucas himself was clearly not in his right mind. Eliott did that to him. Lucas laughs at his own ridiculousness, he can’t believe he’s really about to give himself a cold in favour of spending time with Eliott. Only he can believe it because he’s a blindsided smitten fool.

“Where on earth are you taking me?” Lucas asks in amusement, but also growing increasingly concerned as Eliott drags him through the forest of trees lining the outskirts of the park.

Eliott glances behind him to throw Lucas the fullest of smiles, it takes Lucas’ breath away only partly. “Don’t look so scared! Just trust me, we’re almost there.”

Lucas wants to trust him, but it’s getting dark and they were trekking blindly through a damn forest in the middle of winter.

“Not scared,” Lucas mumbles stubbornly, furrowing his eyebrows at Eliott’s back.

How dare he insinuate Lucas can’t hold his own in the dark. Lucas has seen David Attenborough and shit, he’s pretty confident he could fight off a few wild animals if the situation was to ever arise.

Lucas jumps forward, clinging onto Eliott’s broad shoulders from behind, letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal— that he will definitely be denying all recollection of later— as a harsh snapping sound cuts through the forest.

“What the _fuck_!” He screeches, still hanging onto Eliott’s back as the other boy knocks his head back, letting out a boisterous laugh, and turning around to face Lucas.

“Not scared huh?” He taunts, and he’s so close to Lucas right now. Lucas can feel his short breaths ghosting over his face.

“Maybe just a little,” Lucas admits unwillingly, seeing as Eliott’s smile grows.

_What an annoying asshole._

“It’s okay. I think I just stepped on a twig,” he says, and yes, definitely an annoying asshole. “But we’re here now, look.” He points over to the fence gated around the forest.

Through it Lucas can see the beginnings of a field, or was it a meadow? Lucas isn’t sure. But he can see how the grass is longer in some parts than others, only a few outstanding flowers left surviving the winter, highlighting small bursts of colour, a nice contrast against the green of the grass. He can also see a lake, noticing how the winter sun cast rays onto the soft ripples of waves the slight hit of wind had created.

“Oh,” Lucas breathes out into a whisper, eyes in utter awe as they revelled in the heavenly sight.

“It’s cool, right?” Eliott was smiling so brightly, and Lucas has forgotten how to use words.

They climb over the fence, Eliott giving him a foot up before effortlessly pulling himself over with ease. Lucas narrows his eyes at him in insult.

_Stupid tall people and their long legs. Screw you._

Eliott laughs at his melodramatic state, “You get a lot better at that the more you come,” he says.

“You come here often?” Lucas asks in curiousity as he follows Eliott towards a tree.

Eliott plops himself onto the ground in front of the tree over-looking the lake, Lucas copies his movement. They’re close enough to the lake that Lucas could probably throw something into it and not miss.

“Yeah. It’s where I go when I want to be alone,” he replies vacantly, gazing off into the lake.

Lucas furrows his brows again, “You take people to the place you want to be alone? That’s a bit contradicting.”

Eliott moves his gaze over to Lucas, tentative smile tugging at his lips, “Well no, you’re the first person I’ve taken here.”

If Lucas didn’t know any better he would describe the attentive look on Eliott’s face as reeling with fondness. Lucas doesn’t believe it.

“What? Not even any of your friends?” Lucas queries, Eliott looks down at his hands and it takes everything within Lucas to not reach over and place his fingers under Eliott’s chin, to lift his head and reveal his soft eyes again.

But he doesn’t have to, because Eliott glances back up slowly, sending Lucas an unfeigned smile, “You’re the only one.” It’s so unfaltering, the way he says it. Like he means it wholeheartedly, nothing less, and he wants Lucas to know that.

Lucas’ heart has already gone through way too many irregular beats today, so Eliott is definitely paying for that. The adorable asshole.

**…**

It was a little later now. The sun was beginning to set above them, rays of gold casting down and warming their skin lightly as they lay side-by-side in the grass, heads resting on their backpacks.

It was a pleasant contrast, the ice breeze of wind along with the heat radiating from the disappearing sun, and also from Eliott. Because Eliott radiates an abundance of heat. Or maybe Lucas just feels warm around him in general. Either way, it’s really damn nice.

Eliott pulls out his headphones, passing one end to Lucas as he scrolls through his music library, bottom lip curling under his teeth as he ponders over a song to play.

They’re so close. Lucas could probably reach out and trace the lines of Eliott’s face so easily if he wanted to. _And God does he want to, more than anything_. He notes how the warm beam of sun highlights the shadows of Eliott’s face, wanting to remember how Eliott looks during golden hour for the rest of his life. He wants it in photo form, to be able to pin it to his wall, display it in museums. He doesn’t think a photo could do this moment justice though. It wouldn’t be able to capture how the blue in Eliott’s eyes glisten with more pigment that usual, overpowering their usual greyish tone, how the lines between his brows furrow faintly in concentration as he shifts through his phone, or how his eyelashes reflect soft shadows across his cheeks with so much delicacy.

He eventually lands on a song after what feels like the longest minutes of Lucas’ life, he could never spend enough time basking in Eliott’s pure beauty.

The soft strings of a guitar begin playing through the earphone plugged into Lucas’ ear, the one closest to Eliott as they lay next to each other. Eliott positioned the same beside him.

The song was pretty, something Lucas hasn’t heard before (it was certainly no dubstep). They listen in silence for a short while, Lucas concentrates on the lyrics, trying not think about how close Eliott’s hand is to his as they rest on the grass between their bodies.

“What is it?” Lucas asks quietly, “The song.”

Eliott glances over, his phone resting on his chest, “It’s called _‘All the Pretty Girls’._ By Kaleo.” He replies just as quietly as Lucas, “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Lucas breathes out, eyes drifting over the slow movements of the lake, before looking to Eliott and smiling. “So is this what you listen to when you’re not raving to dubstep?”

Eliott rewards him with a beautiful grin, “Guess so.” His eyes burn deep into Lucas’, and the feeling that surges itself through Lucas’ stomach into his heart is too much. He has to look away.

The song ends, another gentle tune stealing its place. This one is called “ _Cherry Wine,”_ Eliott tells him, “By Hozier,” when he asks.

Lucas likes this, he feels so close to Eliott, not just physically but also emotionally - with the melodic music drifting between them, connecting them. And it feels so vulnerable. Eliott sharing with Lucas the music he listens to alone. Not the ‘I don’t know this person very well so I’ll just play some generic pop songs in case they judge me’ kind of music. But the _real_ music Eliott enjoys.

Lucas feels special, grateful that Eliott chose to trust him with that, and with bringing him here, to the place he only ever comes to be alone. It feels significant. Lucas feels so much currently.

The song is still playing, Lucas feels content gazing out across the lake with heavy eyes. It’s then that he feels the first soft brush of something against his hand. It takes Lucas a moment to comprehend the movement, to realise it wasn’t a vivid fragment of his imagination. But he isn’t hallucinating, and Eliott is grazing his fingertips softly along Lucas’ hand. It’s not accidental, because it had been going on too long for that, and Eliott’s fingers moved gently but with purpose.

Lucas tries to stay as still as humanly possible, terrified that one wrong twitch would send Eliott running in the other direction. His heart does another fluttering thing, and that damn song is still playing softly through their ears and Lucas feels like he’s going to _die_.

He still has’t moved, and he’s going to have to initiate some form of response if he doesn’t want Eliott to think he’s freaked out. He’s anything but freaked out, Lucas wants to feel the delicate brush of Eliott’s skin against his _more_ and _everywhere_. So Lucas lets his own hand twist just a fraction, thumb brushing over Eliott’s in return, so gently it’s almost undetectable.

He wants Eliott to know how much he feels for him. How much his chest aches with every subtle touch.

Lucas turns his hand over fully now, palm exposed and inviting Eliott’s own to grasp on. He does. Lucas lets out a small gasp as their fingers intertwine, his breath hitching. Eliott’s is hand firm but tender in his.

He finally allows himself to glance up at Eliott, watching him through his eyelashes. Eliott is looking down at their joined hands, small smile on his lips. Lucas feels like he could implode with the intensity of the moment.

Eliott must feel Lucas watching him, as he turns his head towards him, his abundance of shaggy hair splayed across his backpack. They’re just gazing at each other now, eyes curious and searching. The song had ended a while ago, Lucas can’t remember, complete silence falling between them aside from the soft puffs of their steady breathing.

Lucas watches as Eliott’s gaze drifts down to his lips, blood pumping to his cheeks at the movement.

 _Yes._ Lucas wanted to yell. _Kiss me, please._

Lucas moves his head closer, if that’s even possible, given their already moulded together positions. Silently begging for Eliott to kiss him. _Do something._

Eliott licks his lips slowly, moving his own face closer. Even closer. Until his forehead was resting against Lucas’. The intimacy of being so close— close enough to let the tip of their noses brush against each other— makes Lucas’ heart pound so violently he feels lightheaded.

Lucas lifts his head up slightly as Eliott brushes their noses together again, small smile tugging at his lips. And it’s singlehandedly the most endearing sight Lucas has ever laid eyes on, even as he watches slightly cross-eyed from how close they are.

He’s very much conscious of how their hands are still intertwined, and so makes the agonising decision to break their grasp in favour of resting his palm gently across Eliott’s cheek, thumb ghosting over the soft crinkles by his eyes as his smile grows even wider.

It feels like hours, years have shuddered past before Eliott finally, _finally_ , closes the gap between them completely. First only ghosting over the corner of Lucas’ mouth, barely there. Lucas parts his lips instinctively, just _wanting_ and _needing_ the touch of Eliott’s lips so much. He feels need ripple throughout every nerve in his body.

When their lips finally press together properly, damp and electric, Lucas feels the sparks that light themselves alight behind his closed eyelids. He leans further into the kiss, Eliott’s hand now resting on his neck, thumb brushing along his jawline, every stroke sending shocks of electricity straight to his chest.

Their lips melt together, the softness of Eliott’s lips so much better than he could have ever imagined. Lucas moves his hand into Eliott’s hair, letting the strands fall through his fingers, also so much more soft and silky than he had dreamed of. Everything about Eliott is just soft, soft, _soft_.

Lucas lets out a desperate breath as their lips part simultaneously, before crashing concurrently again, tongues slanting together. Pressing. Lucas doesn’t know how long they kiss like that for, with his hand caressing Eliott’s hair and Eliott’s hand brushing along his neck and his cheek and everywhere.

He can feel Eliott everywhere.

Their lips slide over each other with great urgency, both panting with every brush of a fingertip, slip of a tongue, parting of a lip. Lucas never wants to go a day in his life without kissing Eliott, not now that he knows how his tongue feels against his own, how his lips taste as they pry Lucas’ own further open to go deeper.

They only break apart because neither of them can control the preposterous smiles that tug at their lips, teeth almost knocking together as they grin widely into each other’s mouths. And Lucas eventually reopens his eyes to see the most beautiful giggle fall past Eliott’s swollen lips, eyes filled with exuberance as they melt into Lucas’.

Lucas grins back, heart aching with the level of euphoria that’s reeling through him. He cranes his head up to brush their noses together in another Eskimo kiss, cheeks numb from exhilaration.

“Your nose is cold.” Eliott is the first to break the silence, voice unbearably soft and hushed but hoarse all at the same time from the kissing. The sound grounds Lucas back to reality, reminding him that this isn’t a dream, and Eliott had just kissed Lucas like there was nothing else in the world that could be more important to him.

Lucas scrunches his nose, he’s vastly aware of how it’s the only region of his body that isn’t pulsating with an overwhelmingly amount heat right now.

Eliott giggles airily, reaching his chin up to place a single sweet peck onto the icy tip of Lucas’ nose. Then he pulls away, looking adorably satisfied with himself as Lucas’ smile somehow expands even more.

And they smile at each other. Lips swollen and cheeks aching. As the sun braces itself for nightfall, golden streams of light radiating through their bones, holding them close, not wanting to let go. Never letting go. 

And as they rearrange themselves on the grass, Lucas resting his head on Eliott’s chest as Eliott runs his hands absentmindedly through Lucas’ hair, Lucas lets himself relax. Letting every insignificant worry he had ever let rage through his thoughts vanish. Disintegrating into oblivion as he focuses on what was now. 

Now, which was the subtle rise and fall of Eliott’s chest beneath his cheek, the light brush of his fingertips against his scalp, and the lingering touch Eliott’s lips left against his own.

Because here, like this, with Eliott softly humming out a sweet melody beneath him as the sun takes its last few breaths, nothing else matters.

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so when i wrote down the main points i wanted to include in this chapter, lucas coming out and the kiss were not included whatsoever, but shit happens, so i guess you're welcome. it’s really important to me that lucas (and eliott, but we'll come to that) are their own leaders. the choice to share their secrets has to be theirs and theirs only. even though that's unfortunately not always reality and people are forced out when they're not ready every single day, it is still important that we become aware of this. so yea. ~ranty things.
> 
> quote is by alfred de musset.


	5. tu vis plus librement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooo she's a long one. made some small changes to the first few chapters, nothing to the plot just some grammatical errors that were bothering me and a few word changes here and there.
> 
> sad and upset at how my quotes are translating in google translate!!! (i don't trust that thing it does not do them justice AT ALL) especially this one (which is my fave). I recommend if you want a better translation to search them into google where actual people have translated them. 
> 
> and i promised soft boyfriends so here we go :)

_« il faut s'aimer, et puis il faut se le dire, et puis il faut se l'écrire, et puis il faut se baiser sur la bouche, sur les yeux et ailleurs »_

_…_

 

**Friday 22:42**

The faulty light bulb dangling above Lucas’ head flickered intermittently as he tried to unlock his apartment door. _Trying_ being the key word here, as he could feel Eliott’s warm breath fanning across his neck, the sensation cascading down his spine and leaving his skin prickled with goosebumps. It’s damn distracting. Eliott also has his large paw hands nestled within the dip of Lucas’ hips, they found themselves there so inherently, fitting together like a perfectly curved mould.

Lucas giggles, attempting to swat Eliott away as he peppers tickling kisses along his neck from behind in the confined hallway, “Stop! I can’t open the door.”

Eliott snickers, only moving away to instead wrap his arms entirely around Lucas’ waist and squish his nose to the area where his neck meets his shoulder, “I’m sorry, I’ll stop. Just let me stay here.”

Lucas’ eyes roll at his ridiculousness. He can’t believe this time last week he was at Eliott’s apartment only fantasizing about how Eliott’s lips would feel against his skin, and now he has the boy bundled around him like a koala refusing to let go. It’s amazing how things change. Lucas isn’t complaining.

But he really needs to get this damn door open if he wants to spare himself any awkward encounters with his neighbours in the morning, because he was solemnly considering just letting Eliott take him apart there and then.

He silently prays his flatmates have migrated to their own rooms at this point, he hasn’t got the will or the brainpower to have to explain to them what’s currently going on. He doesn’t want to _think_. He wasn’t really thinking when he asked Eliott to come back with him. Only it’s late and cold. And Eliott’s apartment is a good ten minutes away, so what was Lucas supposed to do? Not invite him back? That wasn’t going to happen, Lucas has no self-control.

Lucas eventually swings the door open, stumbling slightly with the weight of Eliott’s body following closely after him into the apartment hallway. He twists around, reaching past Eliott to shut the door gently, which is probably somewhat counterproductive since they’ve already been making such a racket.

“Wait here,” he mumbles to Eliott, who nods softly, smiling.

Lucas makes his way down the narrow hallway, peering into the living room. Nothing. Good. The same goes for the kitchen, which has been left eerily vacant and dim for the night.

He looks back to Eliott, who’s standing at the front door with his shoulders slightly hunched and watching Lucas with wonder in his eyes. Still smiling, always smiling. Lucas’ heart can’t bare it.

“C’mere,” Lucas smiles, head motioning towards the other end of the hallway towards his room. Eliott shuffles forward, following Lucas down the hallway. Lucas mentally takes note of how Manon’s door is lying wide open, with nobody currently in there. That’s a good sign, one less person to worry about.

Once they _finally_ get to Lucas’ bedroom with the door shutting behind them, creating a barrier between them and the rest of the world, Lucas starts to feel nervous. The adrenaline that had been twisting itself through him beginning to simmer down as reality edged into its place.

Eliott was in his fucking bedroom toeing off his shoes. And they had just spent hours kissing under a tree, next to a lake in a damn field. Lucas doesn’t know what early 2000’s rom-com he has just infiltrated, he really can’t comprehend the absurdity of it all.

“Okay?” Eliott asks, standing in front of him as Lucas rests his back against the door. And _fuck_ he looks so hot right now, more than ever, but Lucas is  _nervous_.

Nervous because hasn’t done anything other than kissing before, he especially hasn’t ever done anything with a guy. It’s a little terrifying. Lucas wants to be with Eliott like that more than he wants air, to feel close and connected to him in every way possible. But the thought frightens him all the same. He doesn’t want to be a disappointment, have Eliott sprinting in the other direction at Lucas’ lack of experience.

Not that he knows anything about Eliott’s own dating life, the topic has never come up. Or Lucas has consciously avoided bringing it up because he doesn’t think he would have been able to handle it if Eliott had told him he had a girlfriend or something. Which was Lucas just expecting the utmost disastrous scenario, clearly, as he looks at where they are now.

Eliott must sense his apprehension, as he moves closer to Lucas timidly and brushes his hand softly along his cheek. Lucas leans into the touch instinctually, because Eliott’s touch is magnetically inexorable.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Eliott says then, because he’s an absolute saint who can instantly read Lucas’ mind.

And Lucas is so thankful, “Okay. I’m sorry. I want to. I really do. I’ve just never…” He trails off diffidently, but Eliott is shaking his head, reassuring.

“Don’t apologise, Lucas.” He’s staring at Lucas with unmistakeable sincerity. “That’s not why I came here, okay? I’m happy just being with you whatever we’re doing.” Lucas smiles slightly, leaning his head back against the door to get a better view of Eliott’s face.

Eliott continues, expression teasing and eyebrows bouncing, “Plus I’ve been told I’m quite the impressive cuddler.”

Lucas lets out an airy chuckle at this, smirking and raising his brows in return, “Oh, I see. You seem pretty confident about that.” And he knows Eliott is just kidding, but screw whoever told him that. That’s for Lucas to be the judge of now, thank you very much.

Eliott moves his free hand to Lucas’ other cheek, now cupping his face, eyes engraving scars into Lucas’ skull with how intently he’s gazing at him. Stare unfaltering.“Yeah,” he breathes out, before placing his lips over Lucas’ softly.

Lucas responds instantly, kissing Eliott back and letting his arms wind around his waist, pulling him relentlessly closer.

 _Always wanting to be closer_.

They kiss like that for a while, pressed up against Lucas’ bedroom door. Eliott’s hands stroking his cheeks and Lucas embracing them together in almost a hug.

Then Eliott pulls away, and Lucas whines because _come back_. But Eliott just grins at his neediness and pecks his lips in one quick motion, eyes glistening as Lucas attempts to chase his lips when he moves away.

Lucas pouts as Eliott untangles himself, turning around to take in the surroundings of Lucas’ room. Lucas only realises now how much of a state it’s in; clothes scattered across the floor, random books and papers littering his desk. Eliott is going to judge him so hard for his through-otherness. At least he’d had enough self-respect this morning to make his bed.

“Cute,” Eliott comments, eyes scanning the room.

“It’s not usually this messy, I swear.” Which is an outright lie, because Mika frequently refers to Lucas as a messy fucker, but what Eliott doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Lucas works up the sufficient brain capacity to make his limbs finally regain control over his body and move towards the bed, plopping himself onto it with a heavy sigh. He’s extremely washed out from such a hectic day, to fall asleep wrapped up in Eliott’s warm embrace sounds pretty fantastic if you ask him.

Eliott follows him soon after, falling onto the bed and curling instantly into Lucas’ side. His lack of timorousness would have caught Lucas off guard if they hadn’t already spent the past few hours conjoined at the hip.

It’s so natural with them that Lucas doesn’t even question it. He’s only known Eliott realistically for a couple of weeks, but it feels like their bodies were destined to melt together with ease. It’s like everything just falls into place so fluently; hands connecting effortlessly, every point and edge of their limbs moulding perfectly to connect to one another.

In other words, Lucas is an overly sentimental loser.

Lucas twists under Eliott’s hold to move them both onto their sides, nesting his head under Eliott’s chin and letting Eliott wrap his long arms around him, pulling him closer.

“Do you sleep in jeans often?” He feels Eliott’s voice rumble against his forehead from where it was squished against his chest.

Lucas laughs, sound coming out muffled by how his face is pushed into Eliott’s t-shirt. “All the time. You don’t?” He jokes, peeking up to smile at Eliott.

“Not particularly no,” Eliott gazes down at him, lips tugging into their own smile.

He’s right. Sleeping in jeans is the devil’s advocate. Lucas would know, after having done it countless times after a night out, too lazy to remove them before passing out on his bed, but always waking up the next morning with major regrets.

So Lucas decides that he probably shouldn’t allow Eliott to have to go through that. He’s too lovely to ever be subjected to any form of uncomfortableness or pain.

“I can lend you some joggers,” he says, because he’s also not opposed at all to the idea of Eliott in his clothes.

“Thanks,” Eliott replies, and Lucas very reluctantly pries himself out of Eliott’s grasp to fetch them both something more comfortable to sleep in.

He rummages through his dresser, finding a pair of grey ones that he knows are undoubtedly clean and blindly tosses them over his shoulder towards Eliott, laughing as he huffs in surprise.

He can hear Eliott rise from the bed behind him, sound of fabric rustling as he removes his jeans in favour of the joggers. Lucas doesn’t look, _he doesn’t_.

Lucas finds his own pair of joggers to wear and shuffles into them, and he can _feel_ Eliott watching him. So they’re even.

He lets out a giggle when he turns around properly to view Eliott, who’s still standing. Lucas’ joggers come up way past his ankles and it’s the most hilarious and adorable thing he’s ever seen.

“They’re a bit small,” Eliott pouts, hands fisting the fabric in attempt to stretch it out.

“I can see that,” Lucas jokes, _maybe you should just take them off altogether so I can feel your skin_.

And the thought strikes a need inside of him. He contemplates only fleetingly before grasping the edge of his own t-shirt and pulling it over his head in one unhesitating movement. He’s not sure where the sudden sprout of confidence comes from, but he’s just spent the entire evening kissing the boy, he’s pretty certain Eliott won’t object to some skin on skin contact.

Eliott watches him curiously, eyes bright and unwavering as he gazes deep into Lucas’ own, then he swiftly removes his own shirt.

Lucas’ heart pulsates at the beautiful scene unfolding in front of him. Eyes raking over Eliott’s exposed chest interminably. Gazed fixed, not wanting to peel away ever.

But he isn’t about to have Eliott thinking he was a creep anytime soon, so he moves towards the bed once again, trying to mask the small smile pulling at his mouth by busying himself with peeling back the duvet and plumping the pillows, before slotting himself snugly underneath them. Eliott slips in beside him, clearly making no attempt to hide his own grin as he shuffles as conceivably close to Lucas as possible. Reaching out to pull Lucas onto his chest, like how they were before back at the park.

Although it feels distinctly more intimate now that he’s hyper vigilant of the newfound contact of bare skin against bare skin. Eliott’s arms circle around his shoulders, squeezing gently. Lucas feels content as he traces delicate patterns with his fingertip across Eliott’s chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” Eliott lets out in a low murmur after a brief while of silence, so softly Lucas almost writes it off as his vast imagination deceiving him. But he isn’t hearing things, not really. Eliott had said it. The words pour into the hushed room like the golden leaves of a looming tree would fall motionlessly to the ground in an autumn breeze. With so much delicacy, yet still managing to steal every last breath of air from Lucas’ lungs.

Lucas doesn’t think he could ever look at Eliott without feeling the tug of pure adoration and warmth at his heart. An indescribable array of emotions electrifying through his entire being with every smile Eliott reserves just for him. For every giggle and eye roll. Every touch. Everything.

And that thought terrifies the life out of him, because he can’t help but feel like he’s only setting himself up for heartbreak by falling this fast and this hard. Because things as wonderful and easy as this are always going to be too good to be true unfortunately. As much as Lucas enjoys the euphoric feeling of it all, the flutters of his heart and the warmth in his pumping blood, the inevitable frightens him. He doesn’t want the anguish or sharpness that comes along with heartache. Almost as much as he doesn’t want Eliott’s heart to suffer through that either.

So in that moment, heart beating erratically at Eliott’s whispered confession, Lucas tilts his head, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, and another to his jawline, then to Eliott’s lips. He hopes to he can convey the affection he feels for the boy, washing away his fears.

_Those don’t matter now, just enjoy this._

He wants, needs Eliott to understand.

So he kisses Eliott’s lips, and his nose and forehead, and his fluttering eyelids, giggling as lashes tickle his lips. He kisses Eliott’s cheeks and ears and he hopes. He hopes Eliott will understand.

And that’s how they drift into sleep, with the feeling of soft lips over soft skin, and the memory of how Eliott had blushed and giggled breathtakingly as Lucas peppered delicate kisses across every inch of his face replaying itself over and over in his thoughts.

It’s the best sleep Lucas has had in years.

**…**

**Saturday 09:04**

Lucas’ eyes flutter open, before shutting, blinking then opening again. Streaks of sunlight penetrating harshly through his transparent curtains, a stark contrast to the darkness that had been keeping him held deep beyond consciousness. Only a subtle awareness of his surroundings perceptible with his mind currently still leaden with sleep, still grasping onto fragments of his dream.

He’s able to register the dead weight of an arm slung over his body from behind, soft puffs of breath ghosting across his neck, as his thoughts start to become more coherent, haziness mellowing away.

Eliott is spooning him from behind, and Lucas didn’t know until just this second how nice it feels to wake up next to someone - he guesses those rom-coms weren’t fooling around.

Lucas slowly turns himself around in Eliott’s grasp with caution as to not jolt him awake. Not wanting to disturb the tranquillity of the colourful dreams the boy was probably flourishing within. Also maybe Lucas wants to watch how the corners of Eliott’s lips tilt downwards ever so slightly, eyelashes fanning soft shadows across his cheeks and the skin between his eyebrows furrowing adorably in his unconscious disposition. Categorically the most beautiful thing Lucas has ever laid his youthful eyes on.

“Are you watching me sleep?” Eliott mumbles with a light smile breaking across his face, causing Lucas to retract slightly in surprise. He shuts his own eyes quickly before Eliott has the chance to open his first, panicking in the moment and not knowing what else to do with himself. Yes, he was watching Eliott sleep. No further comments.

But Lucas can’t resist the smile threatening his lips, he’s not the best actor, and he doesn’t even know why he was pretending to be asleep to begin with. So he reopens his eyes, grin widening as he meets Eliott’s gaze. He looks stunning in the morning, hair messy and eyes softer around the edges. Peaceful.

“Have you been awake this entire time?” Lucas gushes feeling moderately betrayed, because nobody can wake without their eyes automatically forcing themselves open without permission. That’s a skill not even Lucas has mastered yet, and he’d like to think he’s a pretty competitive sleeper.

Eliott smirks in triumph, “Yeah, for about an hour or so I think.”

“So you were actually watching me sleep?” Lucas teases while his chest flutters at the thought of Eliott having insight into an hour of Lucas’ morning that he himself was completely oblivious to. He really hopes there was no sleep talking involved.

“Well the back of your head, yes,” Eliott retorts back, his expression bright with elation.

Lucas smiles more, because there’s nothing Elliot could do that wouldn’t illuminate every strand of dopamine in his brain.

Eliott wraps the arm that’s resting across Lucas’ waist tighter, dragging him closer and resting their foreheads together, “Did you sleep okay?” he whispers, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Lucas almost forgets to answer, once again losing all cognitive function in the beauty of Elliot’s face up close.

“Yeah. You?”

Eliott nods causing their noses to brush together and his head to rustle against the pillow, as his eyes pry open again, “Yeah.”

His gazes falters down to Lucas’ lips briefly, moving his face impossibly closer. But Lucas’ brain catches up to his intentions expeditiously, twisting his own face away.

“No!” He giggles as Eliott tries to pull him back, also laughing.

“Lucas! Come here,” he pouts only shortly, and Lucas will not be fooled.

“Morning breath, Eliott.” He says it like it’s the most evidently obvious thing in the world.

Eliott just smirks, arms winding themselves around Lucas’ waist once again, aligning their bodies.

“I don't,” he starts before placing a chaste peck to Lucas’ lips, Lucas lets him, “Care.”

“You will.”

Eliott brings a hand to Lucas’ face, pushing back the long strands of hair that have fallen in front of his eyes, “I disagree.”

“Hmm. That’s too bad,” Lucas tuts, sucking in a gust of air through his teeth as he shakes his head teasingly.

But Eliott doesn’t seem to let his determination falter as he makes another attempt to seduce Lucas with his smouldering eye act, glancing down lustfully to Lucas’ lips. And Lucas isn’t going to give in that easily. He won’t.

He chuckles, moving in Eliott’s vice grip to bury his head face first in his pillow, now laying on his stomach. He’d love to see how Eliott plans to work his way around this one.

And Lucas comes out in victory— obviously— as Eliott sighs melodramatically, flopping his weight onto Lucas’ back. Lucas feels him press a kiss there, fingers beginning to detail aimless patterns across his skin. Lucas turns his head to the side, finding it difficult to breathe with his nose squished into his pillow.

They rest in a mutual silence for a while. It’s nice. Lucas loves the simplicity in moments like these. How sometimes they don’t need to say anything at all, yet their actions are speaking a thousand words.

“Am I your first?” He hears Eliott wonder aloud after a while, and okay, so they’re going there now.

“My first what?”

“Your first guy.”

Lucas turns his head, trying to get a better view of Eliott but failing from their awkward position. He gives up, too lazy to move, so instead lets his head fall back to the sheets. He thinks Eliott can see him though.

He purses his lips, contemplating how to word his response, but he doesn’t need to because Eliott speaks again, always able to read his mind, “I’ll take that as a yes.” He doesn’t say it in a condescending way in the slightest, it merely observant.

Lucas nods in confirmation, he’s not all that embarrassed. Eliott already knows he’s a virgin, it’s not like it took a genius to fit the pieces together beyond that.

“What about you?” He feels Eliott smirk above him, finding the energy to twist his head and actually look at him now, seeing how the boy raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, I see,” Lucas giggles. And it’s so ridiculous. Lucas had convinced himself that a confession as such would cause his jealousy to skyrocket, but in reality the matter is so inconsequential, now that Eliott is here with _him_ in _his bed_. Lucas ridicules himself for ever fretting over something so trivial.

“Do you believe in parallel universes?” Eliott speaks again, warm breath fanning over Lucas’ back where his head rests. 

“I’m not sure,” Lucas thinks, because truthfully he doesn’t believe there’s another universe where things could get any better than this. 

Instead he explains to Eliott his preferred stance on the multiplicity of universes, “Sometimes, when I have a choice to make, I imagine that there are thousands of other Lucases throughout a range of universes facing the same decision. That way, between all of us I know we’ve tried everything.” And once he says it he realises how pathetic it probably sounds, but Eliott doesn’t even question it, instead happily following along with Lucas’ fantasy. 

“I think in another universe, Eliott number 342 would have kissed you that first night at the party, while he was attacking your face with glitter.” He giggles, Lucas’ heart warms at the confession, knowing Eliott wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss Eliott that night at Emma’s party. 

“What did you think of me then, the first time we met at the party?” Lucas wonders aloud, because he can ask that now, and he’s dying to know. 

He hears Eliott chuckle again, “I thought, this boy is definitely afraid of dark forests.” 

Lucas lets out an airy laugh, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I saved your ass in that forest.” 

Eliott hums, not sounding entirely convinced. 

“Hmm. Yeah thought so,” Lucas narrows his eyes challengingly, which again is difficult with Eliott still lying across his back. 

Eliott speaks again, sucking all the air from Lucas’ lungs as the words fall from his lips so openly and sincere, “The first time I saw you wasn’t at the party though. It was on my first day of school. I didn’t know anyone, and I walked past you and your friends.” 

Lucas finds the energy to twist more under him, urge to watch Eliott’s face as he spoke overcoming him. 

“You didn’t see me,” Eliott continues, almost sounding like a question. Lucas shakes his head, lips pursed in disappointment. He wishes he had. 

“But I saw you.” Eliott smiles softly, eyes staring into Lucas’, the blue lining his pupils glistening as the morning rays of sun reflected across his face. 

“I only saw you, actually,” He whispers, the words grasping onto Lucas’ heart and squeezing, finding their way into his chest and making a home for themselves. He holds them there, against his heart as he smiles back up at Eliott. 

And fuck it. Lucas wants to kiss him.

So he adjusts himself under Eliott, letting the taller boy loom over him as he tangles his hands in his hair, pulling him down into a deep kiss. Pouring every trace of want and need into it.

Eliott smiles like an idiot into the kiss. _Smug asshole_ , Lucas thinks. But also _stop smiling and kiss me_. This irritates him only irrationally, and so being the stubborn individual he is, Lucas makes the intellectual decision to arch his back off the bed, wrapping his legs around Eliott’s waist and pulling them flush against each other.

This earns him an instant moan out of Eliott, smile wiping off his face abruptly. _That’s what you get, asshole_.

Only Eliott really is not an asshole whatsoever, he’s the most precious human being Lucas knows. Because as Lucas ruts against him headily as their kiss deepens into something filled with desire and passion, he pulls away gently, gaging where the situation was beginning to head towards.

“Is this okay?” He breathes out, remembering Lucas’ unease from the night before.

“Yeah,” Lucas’ nods with certainty because _yes_. It’s more than okay. He trusts Eliott, he knows Eliott doesn’t care about his lack of experience. He’s here. That’s all Lucas needs.

Eliott watches him intently for a few moments trying to read his mood, he’s becoming alarmingly good at such. He must deem Lucas’ expression definitive enough, as he smiles softly before leaning back down into another kiss.

And so Lucas allows himself to relax for once as he lets Eliott kiss him with his damn morning breath. He relaxes as Eliott smooths delicate kisses along his neck, down his chest, and across stomach. He relaxes as Eliott’s dark eyes glance up at him— the usual bright grey-blue now deepening with want— as he reaches the edge of Lucas’ sweatpants, gaze searching for any sign of hesitation on his end. Which there is none.

He then relaxes as Eliott removes the layers of clothing. He relaxes as Eliott plants feathery kisses to the thin skin inside his thigh. He relaxes as he feels Eliott finally take him in. And for once in his life Lucas isn’t thinking about anything else other than now, and the beautiful boy that’s currently igniting every feeling and emotion Lucas has always been too afraid to let exist within himself.

And he relaxes. For once, Lucas breathes out, and he relaxes.

**…**

 

**Saturday 11:54**

The diffused sunlight reflects hues of warmth throughout Lucas’ bedroom as his eyes unfold from sleep for the second time that morning.

Although this time around he’s acutely aware of the vast emptiness surrounding him, it’s ominous almost. The harsh polarity of waking up with heat radiating from every inch of Eliott’s soft skin is unparalleled against the dejected feeling of bareness, lying tangled beneath the sheets alone.

Lucas rises onto his elbows slowly, eyes flickering around the room in search of the missing body heat. He can see that Eliott’s shoes are absent from the floor, and the grey joggers lie folded neatly on top of Lucas’ dresser.

He huffs out a sigh, flopping down into the sheets again. So Eliott had left without saying goodbye. It’s not a big deal. However, Lucas can’t help the disillusionment that trickles into his bloodstream, not enjoying how the spot Eliott once occupied is now cold and void. As if he had never been there in the first place, merely just a fragment of Lucas’ imagination.

Lucas feels something crinkle against his forehead as he rolls over, scrunching his eyes in annoyance, he lifts his head again to find whatever was digging into him.

It’s a small piece of paper, placed neatly on the pillow adjacent to his head. Lucas sits up to retrieve it.

At first glance, on the front there’s a drawing of a hedgehog alone in bed looking upset, he unfolds the paper, inside there’s now a raccoon next to the hedgehog, looking at one another with a smile. Underneath is written, “ _Eliott n°3467 is a fucking lucky guy. You’re so beautiful when you sleep._ ”

Lucas’ heart flutters an unruly rhythm, lips tugging into an uncontainable smile as he inspects the drawing. The betrayal he had felt dissolving elsewhere, now replaced with warmth as he notices the small heart Eliott had scribbled above their heads.

He figures he’s the hedgehog then. He so badly wants to know _why_. What characteristics did Lucas exhibit that caused Eliott to think _hedgehog_. He would have to question him about that another time.

For now he falls back into his bed, clutching the drawing to his chest, burying his head into the pillow next to him, breathing in the scent Eliott had left behind. And he smiles.

**...**

**Monday 08:46**

Eliott is a goof, Lucas has concluded, for lack of a better word. Behaviour representing that of an erratically adorable puppy. So that’s why Lucas isn’t one bit surprised when he’s making his way to biology, just minding his own business, when he feels a hand grab him from behind, pulling him into a supply closet, door shutting behind them with a click.

Lucas gazes up at Eliott in a combination of disbelief and amazement, while Eliott corners him against the wall.

“Hi,” Eliott’s breath ghosts across his face from their close proximity. Lucas feels lightheaded, but let’s out a short laugh nonetheless at how chuffed Eliott appears with himself.

He raises his brows in question, finding the animated expression on Eliott’s face exceedingly amusing, “Hey, what brings us here?” He questions, now really edging to know why they were stood in a damn supply closest.

“Missed you,” Eliott murmurs, and it only causes Lucas’ heart to skip every second beat. Heat rises to the tip of his cheeks, feeling the butterflies that are permanently lounging in his stomach push against his heart again.

Lucas bunches the excess material of Eliott’s hoodie between his fingers, using the grasp to pull him impossibly closer. Until their foreheads were resting against each other. Then he tilts his chin up to brush their noses together.

It’s his favourite thing to do, Lucas thinks, brushing their noses together that is. Always awarding him with the sweetest giggle out of Eliott. His favourite sound.

“You saw me two days ago,” Lucas teases, because who’s the needy one now? But he’s also dying inside because Eliott missed him. And Lucas had missed him too.

“Too long,” Is all Eliott says, moving his hands to the side of Lucas’ face and joining their lips.

Lucas’ arches his back into the kiss, allowing himself to get lost in the press of Eliott’s soft lips against his own. Eliott lets out a small breath, smile hinting at his mouth as his tongue slides across Lucas’ bottom lip. Lucas can’t help the pleased sigh that tumbles from his lips. He doesn’t think anyone in the world could kiss better than Eliott, with so much passion and urgency, yet so delicate and giving at the same time.

Lucas lives for it.  

The memory of the other morning suddenly occurs to him and he detaches himself only slightly, not wanting to completely forgo Eliott’s warmth. Lucas then reaches into his pocket, pulling out the small piece of paper— Eliott’s drawing, yes he did carry it with him everywhere he went now— and holding it out for him to see.

“So I’m the hedgehog, huh?” he voices, watching as Eliott gazes at the drawing with fondness.

“Yeah,” he smiles, now looking at Lucas intently.

“Yeah? Any reason?” Lucas asks in amusement.

Eliott takes his bottom lip between his teeth innocently, before reaching a hand to Lucas’ hair, letting his fingers splay through the strands and pulling the abundance of locks up into an upright position. He smiles softly, eyes gleaming.

“If I explain all the reasons it won’t be as mysterious anymore,” Eliott’s says raising his brows. Lucas just throws him a ‘are you serious? But really I’m not actually mad because you’re so damn cute’ look.

So Lucas pulls him back in for another kiss, because he will never be able to get enough of the slide of Eliott’s lips against his own. This time he wraps his arms around Eliott’s neck, rising onto his tiptoes slightly to meet his height. Eliott moves his hands to Lucas’ waist, holding him there and prying his lips open slowly, tongue begging for access.

Lucas grants it, because he’s a smitten fool and the one thing better than feeling Eliott’s lips against his, is Eliott’s tongue sending him into a downward spiral.

Lucas arches his back, letting out a soft moan which becomes muffled by Eliott’s mouth. And if Lucas tries exceptionally hard he could probably completely forget that they were currently in school. Although, he wasn’t actually trying that hard because anytime he was with Eliott everything around them seemed to narrow away into a vacuum. Surroundings becoming nonexistent. All he can focus on is Eliott and how close he’s standing, lips extracting every last fragment of oxygen from Lucas’ poor lungs.

But unfortunately, they weren’t the only existing atoms on earth, and they were in school. Lucas curses the world in exasperation, reality catching up to him.

Right, he has a biology class to attend to. And Lucas has no clue what time it even is, or how long they have been concealed away in this supply closet for. Probably much longer than reasonable with how fine he was already cutting it to get to class on time.

So he reluctantly pulls his head back, disconnecting his lips from Eliott. Which earns him a dissatisfied grunt, and _same._

“I have class,” Lucas pants, out of breath from their inflamed make out. But Eliott pays him no mind, surging forward again to connect their lips.

Lucas gets lost again, allowing himself to be kissed intently, before his brain circuits into motion again and he places his hands flat on Eliott’s chest.

“Eliott,” Lucas giggles at Eliott’s attempts to chase his lips when he moves his head back, “I’m serious.”

Eliott pouts, finally understanding and stepping back, letting out a small sigh and frowning, “Okay.”

Lucas can relate to his current rejected puppy expression, he would also much rather be here doing this than listen to his biology teacher blather on about the respiratory system for an hour straight.

“What time is it?” Lucas asks, because his brain is still too hazy to have the energy to take out his phone and check himself.

So Elliot checks, because he’s a fucking angel always coming to Lucas’ rescue, “Two minutes past nine.”

“Fuck,” Lucas huffs out, “I really have to go I’m already late.”

Eliott nods, smiling now, “It’s okay. I’ll text you.”

 _And yes please do, your texts brighten my day,_ Lucas thinks.

“Okay,” he breathes, watching Eliott’s enchanting smile. He feels his eyes darken as he takes in Eliott’s etherealness, standing there in the dimly illuminated room looking so effortlessly graceful.

“Are you gonna go? Or?” Eliott smiles with too much smugness at Lucas’ lack of effort to leave the supply closest.

And right. Yes. Class.

“Yeah, uh. I’ll see you later,” he manages to reply, moving towards the door, but not without placing one last kiss to Eliott’s lips.

This time it’s softer. _I’m_   _going to miss you. How did I get so lucky_? Is what he says with this one. _You make me feel so much._

**…**

 

Lucas rushes into his biology classroom looking and feeling immensely disheveled. He’s going to kill Eliott for rustling up his hair so much, it has a mind of its own, once it’s been untamed there’s no going back. So Lucas currently looks like he has just spent twenty minutes making out in a supply closet— which he has— but that’s not the point. It really wasn’t the look he was going for when he was getting ready this morning.

Although, Lucas thanks the Monday Gods, as he hurries to his seat, when he notices that his biology teacher hasn’t arrived yet. He really owes them his life for sparing him the abundance of late penalties he admittedly deserved.

Imane eyes him suspiciously as he fumbles about in his backpack to find his books, he’d actually completed his homework this weekend for once, so he was pretty chuffed with himself.

“You sleep in again?” Inane teases, and right. He still looks like he has just been dragged through a bush.

Lucas instinctively runs a hand through his hair, “Uh. Yeah,” he mutters, because what was he supposed to say? ‘Oh no, I was actually just making out with some dude in the same place they keep the mops and spare loo roll.’ Not a chance.

Imane nods slowly, watching him curiously and seeming unconvinced. Lucas glances back to his bag to avoid her acquisitive stare. God, was he that transparent? His hand habitually moves to swipe across his lips, he could still feel the traces of Eliott’s mouth tingling every nerve ending of his skin. Which was admittedly his next mistake, as it earns him a snigger from Imane.

“Ah. Okay I see,” she throws him a knowing look, “I won’t ask any questions.” She looks down at her own books animatedly, smirk grazing her lips.

And for fuck sake, Lucas has only gone and dug himself a hole. He may as well just go lie in it. Give up now. It’s what he deserves for being an idiot.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he charges at the opportunity to have something else to focus his mind on other than the fact Imane more than likely knows he had just been making out with someone.

**Mama 09:05**

_If anyone sins and does what is forbidden in any of the Lord’s commands, even though they do not know it, they are guilty and will be held responsible. Your father will get what is coming to him for what he did to us, my son. I miss you._

Lucas mentally curses himself for completely forgetting about his plans to go see his mother. He also ponders on this text particularly longer than the long string of countless others he usually just disregards immediately.

He generally finds no appeal in his mother’s religious affiliations, with his own relationship with the church blinded by the subtle digs of hated he witnessed as a child. Not that he ever experienced it personally, it was never a spoken thing at his church. Never vocalized or specified that ‘Boys can’t love boys, and girls can’t love girls,’ and all the in between. But it was in the air, Lucas felt the atmosphere. He knew what they all thought about it. He could never understand how a group of people claiming to be so mighty and good could adopt such judgmental opinions. He’s pretty damn certain if there is some sort of God out there, that the idea of two people of the same gender falling in love would be the least of their worries.

Lucas looks to Imane before voicing his thoughts, speaking with caution, “How come you’re so religious?”

Imane furrows her eyebrows, letting out a slight laugh, “Do you have a problem was Islam, Lucas?”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” he says, trying to think of a better way to phrase his question. “I just mean with religion in general. The world is progressing, so how can you believe that there is always a right and a wrong, and that certain things that are wrong can deemed punishable like, I don’t know… say homosexuality.” He’s nervous, and also kicks himself for the last part - way to be even more fucking obvious. So he adds in a quick, “Just for example,” to save his ass just a little.

Imane looks simultaneously fed up and agitated, turning to face Lucas completely, “Okay. Homosexuality is against my religion, yes. But my religion doesn’t stop me from being friends with someone because of their sexuality. It teaches me to respect and to not judge people. The only one who can judge is Allah.”

Lucas purses his lips, not really knowing how to respond, “That’s a bit hypocritical, is it not? If only Allah can judge, but you believe in Allah, aren’t you agreeing with those views?”

“Lucas,” Imane looks increasingly more annoyed at his lack of understanding, “Basile is your friend, right?”

“Yeah.” Lucas, sighs not grasping where she was going with this.

“And do you agree with how he speaks about and acts around girls? Making them uncomfortable?” She questions, putting him on the spot.

“No? Well not always, I don’t think he realises he’s doing it most of the time.”

Imane nods outwardly, seeming to have gotten the answer she expected, “But you don’t correct his actions? Or stop being friends with him?”

And okay. It’s a fair point.

“I guess not.”

She sends him a subtle smile, “Then I suppose that’s pretty hypocritical also. I don’t have to agree with every single thing my religion says. That’s not how it works. For me, being religious means being kind and respectful. Hating on someone because of their sexuality, skin colour or religion isn’t showing kindness. It’s the opposite. And don’t ever listen to people who try to justify their hate with religion. Because they are wrong. Hate doesn’t come from religion. It comes from fear.”

Lucas feels like an asshole now, for thinking Imane could ever have any ounce of hated in her bones for even a split second, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” she smiles, “If nobody asks these questions, the world would never rid itself of ignorance.”

Lucas returns her smile, he doesn’t know what he would do without a friend as levelheaded and smart as Imane. So he promises himself that this week he will go to visit his mum. He misses her too.

**…**

**Wednesday 12:46**

The weather is depressive, bleak noon sky making no effort to bring any brightness into the atmosphere. It was beginning to reflect on Lucas’ mood he concluded, as he glares up towards it. _Stop being so damn cold_. He can’t wait for winter to end.

He was also maybe acting inwardly stroppy that his friends had decided to eat lunch outside instead of their usual table in the canteen, the one that gave him the perfect view of Eliott, who always sat facing him at a table on the other side of the room. Sneaking subtle glances at each other every so often. And he doesn’t know _why_ because it’s _freezing_ and everyone _knows_ Lucas doesn’t deal well when his hands lose their preferred level of warmth. Which is what they’re edging towards right this second.

In retaliation of this monstrosity, Lucas tries to steal a handful of Doritos out of the large bag in Yann’s grasp. Who catches onto Lucas’ intention almost instantly without even having to break away from his conversation with Arthur, and pulls the bag far from his reach.

Lucas throws the side of his face a disgruntled glare, but then remembers how he had mastered his puppy dog expression to the point of excellence for this exact purpose alone. So he moves his face into Yann’s view, portraying his most exquisite _Puss in Boots_ impression, eyes widening and feigning his upmost dejection.

It’s successful, just as he anticipated, because a few seconds later Lucas has the entire bag in his possession and is munching away happily.

“He has you wrapped around his finger, man,” Arthur barks out a laugh, as Yann shakes his head in a scoff.

Lucas just sends them an enthusiastic smile, “Well you’re making me eat lunch outside in the freezing cold. So I guess we all have to make sacrifices.”

“Yeah guys, why exactly are we out here? It is pretty cold,” Basile chips in. Lucas points to him with a raised eyebrow. _See, even Basile agrees_.

“We’re trying to avoid the girls,” Yann states, him and Arthur looking hilariously guilty.

Basile looks perplexed at the use of these words in the same sentence, “Avoid!?”

“What did you two do?” Lucas laughs, tilting his head back to shovel another handful of Doritos into his mouth.

Arthur sighs, “We were supposed to go to a meeting for that dumb party thing yesterday but never showed up. They’re pretty pissed, we didn’t think they’d take it so seriously.”

Lucas suddenly remembers the fact that he and Eliott had also bailed on their meeting. He hadn’t spoken to any of the girls since bar Imane, but she never mentioned it.

“I’m sure they couldn’t be that pissed. I bailed on mine too and they haven’t said anything,” Lucas supplies in attempt to ease the stressed looks on their faces.

“Didn’t you go on Friday?” Yann queries in confusion.

“Yeah. But I left early.”

“Why?” Arthur looks up from his sandwich.

Lucas fumbles, he hadn’t prepared himself for this many questions. He couldn’t tell them about Eliott. How they ran out together and everything that followed. That wasn’t necessarily a suitable average Wednesday lunchtime conversation.

“Uh. I don’t know, it got boring.”

Basile seems eminently affronted by this, “And you just left?! Guys! You’re supposed to be helping me get with Daphné! How is that going to happen if she’s mad at my friends? A relationship like that would never work!”

Arthur groans, “Basile! What did we tell you? No discussing Daphné at the dinner table.”

This forces a laugh out of Lucas and Yann. Lucas is hugely onboard with that rule, where does he sign the papers? Although, he would appreciate if the law also extended itself to ‘no talking about girls in general, in any situation.’ That would get all of Lucas’ signatures.

His phone dings in his pocket and he hands the bag of Doritos back to Yann, satisfied with the quarter he had left remaining— he wasn’t a complete monster— and wipes his fingers on his jeans to get rid of the greasiness left over from the crisps, before pulling out his phone.

**Eliott 12:59**

_You’re not coming to the canteen? :( Miss your face._

The level of self-restraint it takes for Lucas to not break out into the widest grin is absurd, and he has no idea how he manages to pull it off. His lips twitching as he bites them.

_Don’t do it feelings, don’t make this difficult for me._

Texting was something that happened quite frequently between Eliott and him now, which is actually an understatement because it occurred more like every day. Most of their back and forth wasn’t even all that significant, majorly just sharing random thoughts and sometimes Eliott would send him a stupid meme. As he has now subjected Lucas to the wonder that is hedgehog memes, which he had absolutely no clue was an actual thing until recently. And Eliott is ridiculous, but they secretly make Lucas’ day.

Now he’s just even more displeased that he wasn’t inside gazing into Eliott’s eyes and staring at his dumb, pretty face.

**Lucas 13:01**

_No :((( the guys wanted to eat outside_

_Cold :( Not fun_

**_Eliott 13:01_ **

_Very unfortunate_

_What are you doing later?_

**Lucas 13:02**

_Absolutely nothing :)_

**Eliott 13:02**

_:) :)_

_Cool_

Eliott then proceeded to send Lucas a ludicrous amount of memes, and he definitely has an entire folders worth of these stashed in his camera roll for the sole purpose of annoying and amusing Lucas simultaneously. Lucas wasn’t complaining.

“That’s a lot of notifications there,” Arthur’s voice causes Lucas to look up suddenly, catching the small smile that had begun to play on his lips before it got too embarrassing.

“Yeah,” Lucas mumbles because he _knows_ , Eliott is too fucking adorable, making his life hard like this. It pings again. Lucas flicks the switch at the side, putting it on vibrate mode.

Yann laughs, “Were you not listening to us?”

Lucas wasn’t, like at all. Too consumed in Eliott, Eliott, Eliott.

“Uh no sorry, what were you saying?” He asks contritely, putting his phone away and giving them his full attention. He can still feel his phone vibrating every so often against his thigh.

“We were talking about Basile’s birthday. It’s on Saturday.” Yann fills him in, Basile looking devilishly pleased and smiling to Lucas in excitement.

Lucas smiles back, “Ah. So it is. Cool man, are we doing anything?”

“That’s what we were just saying. My parents want to do a family thing first, but I was thinking after we could go out. There’s this really sick new bar that’s just opened. You in?” he explains ecstatically.

“Of course. Yeah, sure. Wouldn’t miss it,” Lucas replies.

This seems to be the best news Basile has heard all day, because he lets out a gleeful howl, reaching across them all to achieve a high five. They all laugh hysterically at his dramatics, trying to pull him back onto his place on the bench before they got anymore judging stares from the surrounding students.

“Dude you’re insane,” Yann shakes his head in bafflement.

“It’s gonna be AWESOME!” Basile yells, throwing his hands into the air. Lucas can’t control his overbearing laughter. His friends really were fucking insane.

**…**

 

**Wednesday 14:34**

Lucas is procrastinating vigorously. He has a pretty dense biology assignment that desperately needed attending to, but instead of taking the most rational route in life and doing it during his spare hours, he was occupying himself with a game of _Candy Crush._ Which was extremely unproductive and somewhat frustrating on his part because he would _never_ play the damn thing unless he had more pressing matters to attend to, like said biology assignment. Lucas bets if he had absolutely nothing to be doing right now, there was no way he would go anywhere near the game. Hence the frustration. But that wasn’t stopping him, procrastination was his strong suit.

The school library is fairly empty, as it usually is on a Wednesday afternoon. All of Lucas’ friends have class, so he always found himself drifting about aimlessly at this time, not really knowing what to do with himself. Despite this, he had still taken refuge in the furthest corner of the library, wanting to play his game in peace.

Eliott also has class all day on Wednesdays Lucas has discovered, which was extremely unfortunate because it would have given them the perfect opportunity to spend some time together without any intrusive prying eyes.

Although, he can’t sulk too much, given the fact they had planned to hang out later. Which couldn’t come quick enough, Lucas was itching to see Eliott. Even though they had been texting perpetually, he hadn’t had a chance to actually speak to him in person since the whole supply closet contingency on Monday. It was an outrage, two days was too long, excruciating almost.

He wonders what Eliott had planned for them later, not that it really mattered. Lucas could watch paint dry with Eliott by his side and still be able to find enjoyment in it. There’s something about how just being within Eliott’s ambiance that made Lucas feel at complete ease. He was able to alleviate all of Lucas’ worries without even having the knowledge of the current mess storming inside his brain.

Eliott was completely oblivious to Lucas’ family situation. How his Dad had walked out on them and found himself a new life not even a month later. How his mum was currently living in a psychiatric clinic because of her inability to look after herself. How all Lucas could ever think about _all the time_ was the fact that he was lying to everyone about who he was. It was like a domino effect. One problem cascading and knocking over another aspect of Lucas’ life until he had accumulated a million problems, making his mind an utter shambles, not knowing _what_ to think.

He felt like a living zombie most of the time, going through his days on autopilot. He was there figuratively, but he wasn’t actually _there_. When he was with Eliott it was like he could just live in that moment and actually _feel_. Feel fluttering happy things, not dwelling heavy things. He didn’t feel so alone when he was with Eliott.

Because Lucas did feel alone most of the time. An don’t get him wrong, he knew he was surrounded by so many amazing loving people, but the two that were supposed to matter the most— _his own parents_ — couldn’t be there for him. At sixteen Lucas had to move out and try to fend for himself, so yeah, maybe he was a little fucked up by it.

Not that its Eliott’s fault that Lucas can’t handle difficult topics, he’s pretty sure Eliott wouldn’t look at him any differently if he knew about any of these things. He did already know about one of them, the fact that Lucas was anything but straight. He had made that _pretty clear_ to Eliott.

But Lucas doesn’t think he can bring himself to talk about that stuff, he hasn’t even been able to discuss it with Yann recently. Yann who has  _always_ been the person Lucas goes to when he needs an escape from his own thoughts. Who _always_ listens to Lucas’ family problems. His head was just such a mess recently, trying to balance too many things and failing miserably.

A bag lands on the desk Lucas is currently positioned at, the force of it causing him to jerk out of his ruminations, looking up from his game. Alexia had slid into the seat beside him at the back of the library.

“Hey!” She smiles.

“Hey, what’s up?” He acknowledges her, still taken aback by her sudden appearance.

Alexia purses her lips, sitting sideways on the chair so she could face him properly, “Have you started that biology assignment yet? I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Lucas internally groans, he was trying to _not_ think about the assignment, “I haven’t even looked at it.” He says apologetically, “Can’t you ask Imane?”

“No, she’s in another class,” she frowns.

Lucas decides this is most likely a sign from the universe that he should probably stop fucking around on _Candy Crush_ and start taking his education a bit more seriously. So he shoves his phone away and goes to take out his books.

“Come on, we’ll do it together,” He says, which earns him a relieved smile from Alexia.

They work together simultaneously for a while, sharing ideas and trying to make sense of certain questions. Until Alexia brings up something definitely _not_ biology related.

“Why did you and Eliott leave the meeting last week without saying anything?” She asks offhandedly, not even looking up from the diagram she was sketching.

And Lucas feels like an asshole, registering how insolent it was for them to run off like that. Not that they meant for it to come across that way, it was more of a spare of the moment type of thing. They simply weren’t thinking of the consequences. Lucas seems to find himself doing that a lot when he’s with Eliott, throwing all potential repercussions out the window.

“I don’t know. It was really rude and shit of us. I’m sorry,” he replies genuinely.

Alexia just laughs at this, “Oh don’t be sorry! I was relieved, it was really starting to drag on. Daphné let us go early.”

“Oh.” He looks over at her, intrigued by the blue streaks in her hair. It was bold, but she somehow pulled it off so effortlessly.

“Yeah. Chloé seemed kinda pissed though.” Alexia looks up to meet his gaze.

Lucas can’t help the bothered look that pulls at his face, Alexia notices, letting out another amused laugh.

“You’re not into her,” she states, reading him instantly. Lucas shakes his head, lips pursed. “How come?” she continues.

It doesn’t feel invasive coming from her, if spoken by one of the guys Lucas thinks he would have felt more agitated. But Alexia has no confrontation to her tone whatsoever, there’s no shock of _‘how could you not be into a girl that’s so clearly likes you?’_

“I guess she’s just not my type,” Lucas replies, which isn’t a lie, because Chloé is definitely not his type.

This seems to satisfy Alexia’s curiosity as she just nods in response, but a few moments later she speaks again, “That’s too bad. She’s definitely my type. I might just have to steal her from you.” She teases, nudging their shoulders together.

“Huh?” Lucas mumbles in confusion, “What do you mean ‘your type’?”

Alexia furrows her eyebrows, confused at Lucas’ confusion, “It was a joke. Y’know because I’m bi.”

She says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Words falling from her tongue without even the smallest fraction of hesitation, as if she had just said something as lucid as the weather, or her own name.

“You’re bi?”

Alexia shrugs, wide grin on her face despite her furrowed brows, “Yeah. You didn’t know?”

“No.” Lucas shakes his head, voice coming out in almost a whisper.

“Oh. That’s okay, I just thought everyone knew.” She’s so utterly unfazed by the conversation it perplexes him. Lucas can’t comprehend it.

When he came out to Mika it sucked every ounce of energy from his body, he felt emotionally drained for hours and he didn’t even speak the actual words. The word gay never once leaving his mouth. Yet Alexia had just threw it into conversation so effortlessly. _I’m bi. What did you get for question three?_

Lucas envies her slightly, but at the same time he finds himself amazed by her openness. He _wishes_ so desperately that he had that confidence in him. To have the courage within himself to just blurt it out mid conversation like it was the easiest thing he would ever do.

“I didn’t know.”

Alexia seems to find his bewilderment amusing, as she chuckles again, “You seem shocked, I hope you’re not about to get all uncomfortable with me.”

Lucas perks up at this, realising he probably looked like he had just been slapped across the face, “No no no! Not at all. I guess I’m just shocked at how easy you admitted it. You don’t care that everyone knows?”

Alexia remains unbothered by his questioning, “Well I suppose I’m just past the point of caring what people think. I already went through that, it’s not a nice place to be. I would much rather embrace who I am. Fuck whoever has a problem with it, because I don’t need that in my life,” she asserts. Lucas could sense the intent swimming behind her eyes.

And Lucas aches, so gravely, that he possessed the same thought process. That he didn’t care so immensely about what other people thought about him. But he couldn’t get past that mental block in his mind. He couldn’t help but listen to the labels people threw around. He tries _so hard_ to keep a sense of who he is, because he knows he’s so much more than his sexuality, he _knows that_. That’s the most frustrating thing about it. Because he _knows._

Lucas knows his friends won’t ditch him because he’s gay. His friends aren’t homophobic. And he knows they would welcome Eliott with open arms. Because Eliott is fucking awesome, and hilarious, and he would fit into their group so fluently, like they were always made to be a five piece and Eliott was just the missing puzzle they needed. Lucas damn well _knows_ that his thinking is irrational. But that doesn’t stop him from being so fucking terrified of the prospect of having to tell them. _He doesn’t know how to tell them._

“That’s really cool.” He finally speaks, and it’s sincere. Because he really does admire Alexia for that, he’s in awe of how she just lives her life giving no fucks. He sighs then, “I just—“ Lucas stops himself, heaving out a frustrated breath, he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. His brain feels so chaotic.

“You just what?” Alexia has completely abandoned all focus on her assignment, pencil disregarded on the desk, eyes curiously watching Lucas.

Lucas looks down, finding the ink mark on the side of his pen particularly interesting, or maybe he’s just afraid to meet her questioning gaze.

“How did you get to that point? Not caring what other people think?” He finally lets out, voice quivering self-evidently and looking up to meet Alexia’s eyes.

She purses her lips faintly, a look of understanding now replacing her curiosity. Lucas only panics slightly at the fact that he’s just indirectly let another person find out. The same as he did with Imane. Not that he outwardly told them, but the girls weren’t stupid, he knew they could read straight through him.

But somehow Lucas doesn’t mind, the thought maybe even solaced him in a way.

“It wasn’t easy, I won’t lie,” Alexia speaks then, voice calm and collected. “But once you accept yourself, Lucas, it’s the best fucking feeling in the world. You live more freely. Life doesn’t seem so daunting. Caring less about what other people think just comes along naturally after that. After you accept yourself.” Her eyes are communicating so much, like she’s trying to print her words into the depths of Lucas’ brain so he understands, so he doesn’t forget.

Lucas feels lightheaded, his heart pumping so rigorously that the oxygen in his blood can’t contain itself. He doesn’t know what to say, mouth opening and shutting again inarticulately. He feels like every time he has these conversations it gets harder, he still can’t bring himself to do it properly. To say those two words. He feels like such a coward.

“Hey,” Alexia whispers, “It’ll be okay.” And she’s looking at him with so much sincerity that it makes him want to curl into a tight ball and cry.

“I promise.” She finishes with, it’s what causes him to look down at his hands again, lip quivering involuntarily. Lucas wasn’t prepared to get this emotional in a Wednesday afternoon library session, he’s just thankful his past-self chose to sit as far away from the other students as possible.

But he thinks he believes Alexia’s words. He thinks he understands. She’s been in his position, her thoughts have been where his are, she’s felt the things he’s feeling. Lucas isn’t alone in this, he doesn’t have to be alone in this. If he felt alone that was on him, because he was choosing to keep this secret from the people that cared about him the most. The people that would support him no matter what.

So maybe he understands that now. He knows what he needs to do.

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thinking of including a minor Eliott pov in the next chapter. finding it hard to incorporate his thoughts because lucas isn't a mind reader and i want to get those across so let me know what u think, your comments and kudos give me life, you're all so sweet <33
> 
> forever wishing i was better at describing eliott's laugh, it's fucking beautiful, as lucas would say. but we been knew.
> 
> quote is by victor hugo.


	6. j'ai besoin de toi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's literally 1am and my eyes are barely functioning at this point. this was hard to write. i tried to do as much research as possible into bipolar disorder bcs i want to portray it properly, my knowledge was limited to what i've learned in my psychology classes, i tried my best. if anyone feels there are any inaccuracies please please please don't hesitate to let me know. i hope u enjoy a little bit of Eliott's pov, felt it was important to include this, and sorry it's short but i wanted it to be seperate from the other chapters.
> 
> there is also a v minor mention of suicide in this chapter, but extremely minor (literally one sentence) but just a heads up.

_« eliott »_

_..._

 

**Saturday 18:03**

The thing about existing in a manic state is that Eliott feels invincible. He feels so optimistic about everything, pouncing out of bed after an entire night of getting zero sleep, tossing and turning restlessly, itching to take on the day and all of its possibilities. He’s completely wired up, bursting with energy, and he wishes everyone in the world could experience what it feels like to be in that moment, because it’s so invigorating.

Which can be great, he feels on top of the world, _ecstatic_. But with such elevated levels of adrenaline, can also come the unpredictability. A desire to satisfy the heightened emotions reeling through him.

That’s what brings the thrill-seeking. The need to feed his rush, because sitting back and doing nothing isn’t enough. He always has to be _doing_. Always _go, go, go._

So he thrives in the adrenaline rush, seeking risk, daring to push every limit. Getting into fights at bars or in the school yard, enjoying the exhilarating feeling of not knowing what was going to happen next. Breaking into enclosed buildings during the lonely hours of the night, edging to see if he’ll get caught.

And that’s what terrifies him slightly, it’s what terrifies his parents. Because they can’t forecast it, always fearing the worst, what danger would he get himself into next? It makes him afraid, because he doesn’t know how to control it.

But Eliott also feels so avidly creative in this time, finding inspiration in every diminutive detail of life, hands craving, fingertips shaking until he has the feel of a pencil between his fingers to sketch the sharp edges of a particularly alluring building or the intriguing face of a nameless stranger. Whatever spikes his interest.  

Lately he’s been able to pour his creativity into shading the features of a certain wide-eyed curious boy. Tracing the soft edges of his lips and dishevelled stands of hair, how his eyelashes fan across his cheeks so delicately as he sleeps.

Then there’s the talking, mostly all over the place, his attention span short circuiting as he fumbles together sentences that aren’t all that coherent. Talking fast, moving from topic to topic so quickly it’s hard for people to keep up. So erratic he sometimes can’t even keep up with himself.

Gushing about some revelation he’s had over a new album he’s just discovered, how it sounds so melodic playing from his record player, jumping to ranting about the social injustice of poverty, or the inequality that exists in the power hierarchy of radicalised governments, and back to complaining about the spring in his mattress that digs intolerably into his back at night.

Eliott can’t really explain it, but during his mania he feels superior in a way, he can do anything. Achieve anything. And when it burns out, he feels like he has nothing left, every spark of energy in him has exhausted itself, flame fizzling out into nothingness.

But without the highs of mania, Eliott doesn’t think he would be able to tolerate the excruciating lows of depression.

The depression that sucks every ounce of adrenaline out of him, like there’s a vacuum waiting to pounce at any positive emotion that dares to look in his direction. It tends to occur more frequently than the mania, the stronger driving force to his mood. It gets to him more, hits him harder.

When Eliott is depressed he wants to be left alone. He doesn’t want to go anywhere, or see anyone, or _do anything._

He skips school, avoids his friends— the ones he has left, that he hasn’t already pushed away— he ignores texts, can’t even look in the direction of social media. He sleeps and goes to the toilet, and he eats only when it’s absolutely necessary. Like clockwork. He lives on autopilot, he’s living to survive, there’s no living for the enjoyment in the small things. He’s merely just existing.

It’s not that he wants to be by himself per se, he just wants everyone else to disappear. Because no matter what he does he’s doing _something_ wrong. Everything becomes so much more irritable. People telling him to cheer up, get a grip.

So the simplest way to get through it is to hide away, be alone. Because seeing people go about their normal happy lives, smiling at how great the world is, is just another annoying reminder of his bipolar disorder and how he’ll never be able to experience that kind of stability in life, that it will never go away. 

Eliott has contemplated suicide. In those moments of irrationality, aching for the feeling of excruciating emptiness to just _stop._

But he doesn’t. Because deep down he knows the depression is temporary, just like the mania. It comes and it goes, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Then there’s the middle ground. This is what Eliott envisions it’s like for everyone else, the ‘normal’ people.

He wakes up and he feels fine, he goes about his day, gets things done, he functions. He doesn’t get hysterical over small inconveniences, he appreciates the little things, he enjoys his classes, he laughs with his friends, he smiles with Lucas.

He longs to be able to stay in this mind-set all the time. But just like when he’s in the depths of his mania— feeling electrified, never wanting to come back down— he knows it will never last.

He knows he can’t stay in the middle forever. Eliott has come to terms with the fact that his mood could change in a split second and there’s nothing he can do to control it.

So he tries to enjoy the calm while it’s there, for as long as it lasts, finding solace in the normality of things. Existing within the peace.

Eliott chews the end of his pencil in contemplation, admiring his latest piece of work. He purses his lips at the slight inaccuracy in the way he shaded the furrow between Lucas’ brows. He’s maybe being too meticulous, but when it comes to Lucas it has to be perfect. He wants to be able to do the elegant beauty that Lucas so effortlessly radiates justice.

This is something new to him. He usually never ventures into real-life portrait sketches, he prefers the mystery behind portraying the people in his life as their alter ego animal-selves. He’s fascinated by how he can tell a million stories about a person in that way. It’s amusing, light-hearted, fun.

This was more intensely intimate. He savours these bursts of inspiration for Lucas only, because Lucas makes him feel so much.

The decision to illustrate Lucas as a hedgehog had come quite inherently to him. It was easy. He was tiny, fitting into Eliott’s arms so perfectly, the way his hair spiked adorably, the precious frown he displayed when he was in deep thought just yelled _cute_. And hedgehogs were pretty damn cute.

But hedgehogs are also feisty little creatures, they have an innovative approach to survival, immune to certain poisonous plants, which they eat before licking their spines, spreading the plant’s poison all over the spikes to fight away any roaming predators.

They’re vulnerable, having to curl into a tight ball to protect the unarmed areas of their bodies.

But they aren’t defenceless. That reminds him of Lucas in a way.

Lucas has an aroma around him that intrigues Eliott’s senses, he appears hard on the outside, standing a strong ground. But Eliott sees how his eyes fall vacant when he’s in deep thought. How his smile sometimes comes out strained, like there was something eating away at him slowly, but surely, until he was left beaten. Like he was holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, about to collapse at any moment, just _waiting_. Waiting for someone come along and take it away, to ease the burden.

Eliott wants to be that person for Lucas, because ever since he first laid eyes on the boy he _knew_ and he _felt_.

_He felt so damn much._

It had only been about a month since that first moment in the hallway, when he first arrived at his new school, feeling terrified and out of place, like everyone was staring at him as if he had four heads as he walked across the yard.

But then his shoulder knocked against someone in the hallway, and Eliott was irritated because _can’t people learn to fucking walk?_

Although his agitation faded instantly, because as he turned to see the culprit, his heart stopped. He was beautiful, the most beautiful person Eliott had ever laid eyes on. And suddenly he didn’t feel so afraid anymore. He was absorbed in how the boy laughed at something his friend had said, how his bright blue eyes glistened with every smile as he spoke with immense elation.

And it had only been a few weeks since his very first encounter with Lucas at the party. When he finally got to see how his eyes danced with curiosity up close. 

And only one week since they first kissed— or eight days, Eliott wasn’t counting— when Eliott decided that he didn’t want another pair of lips to touch his skin ever again unless they belonged to Lucas.

It has been such a short space of time, so little weeks, that it terrified Eliott slightly how much he found himself caring about Lucas. Eliott was completely intoxicated by him. It’s refreshing in a sense, it makes him feel more alive.

But Lucas doesn’t know that Eliott is bipolar.

So that’s where Eliott is struggling, because he knows he has to tell Lucas. If he sees this thing between them going any further, whatever this _thing_ is, he needs to tell Lucas. And Eliott does see this going further, he wants to spend every possible waking moment of the rest of his life with Lucas, as long as Lucas lets him. So he should tell Lucas, but he’s fucking petrified.

He has no idea how Lucas will react. Would it put him off? Would it be too much for him to handle? What if he doesn’t understand? Not that Eliott would blame him, he can barely understand his unforeseen mood fluctuations himself.

And most of all Eliott doesn’t want to put that burden onto Lucas. When he feels depressed and doesn’t want to get out of bed for days on end, or when he gets irritated at Lucas for something as simple as asking if he’s okay, or when Lucas has to second guess himself constantly before he speaks because he never knows how Eliott will react.

He doesn’t want Lucas to deal with that, he shouldn’t _have to_ deal with that.

Maybe Lucas wouldn’t even stick around long enough to have to anyways, he could bolt the moment Eliott tells him, not wanting to be associated with someone who’s mentally ill. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to Eliott, his old friends seemed to drop like flies once they found out.

A sudden knock at the door startles Eliott out of his thoughts, and _shit_ he had completely lost track of time.

His parents had planned to come over to his apartment to have dinner together. They did that a lot, Eliott knows it’s just so they can check up on him, assess his mood and make sure he wasn’t living within a complete pigsty.

Eliott curses as he shoves his pencils back into their case, noticing how his hands were covered in ink and lead. He then placed the sketch of Lucas he was working on into the drawer of his desk, before moving out of the living room to let his parents in through the front door.

“Hi sweetie!” His mum beams at him, holding a casserole dish covered in tinfoil.

His dad smiles also, nodding his head in acknowledgement, Eliott opens the door wider and steps aside to let them enter.

“Hi,” Eliott smiles back, following them into the kitchen.

“How are you? What have you been up to today?” His mum ushers out, turning on his oven and fumbling about the kitchen for utensils. It feels somewhat intrusive, like his home has been invaded. Eliott loves his mum, but her overprotective mothering instincts tend to overwhelm him a lot.

“Uh yeah, I’m fine,” He starts, leaning against the kitchen counter as his dad takes a seat at the kitchen table, both of them watching his mum at work. “And not much really, just chilling. How about you guys?”

“Yeah we’re great! Your father and I have just been doing a bit of DIY around the house, y’know? Change things up a bit,” she gushes, her enthusiasm too much for him right now.

“By ‘your father and I’ she means I do all the work while she yells orders at me.” His dad chuckles jokingly. His mum laughs and swats him playfully with a dishcloth.

Eliott admires his parent’s relationship. They’ve been married for twenty-odd years and they still act the same around each other as they did when they first met, they were best friends and he looked up to that. It’s what he hopes for in his own life and future marriage.

He thinks about Lucas again, how he’s never once been around him not found himself laughing until his ribs ached, or smiling until his cheeks throbbed. He could see a future like that with Lucas, maybe. He was hopeful.

Eliott’s parents know he likes guys, after that one manic episode at sixteen where he got too drunk in a gay club and someone managed to pull up his emergency phone contacts and call his mum. It was only moderately embarrassing, his mum coming to collect him from a gay bar. But Eliott has learned to disassociate himself from his manic-self, he does things and he can’t control them, so instead he just needs to accept that they happened and try to move on.

They don’t really speak about it, but it’s not that Eliott is for certain one hundred percent gay, he doesn’t know what he is. He has been with girls before and enjoyed it, but he also enjoys being with guys. It was just that. He didn’t feel the need to discuss it with his parents.

So Eliott doesn’t know if he’s bi or pan or whatever, he doesn’t really care, he’s not in any mad rush to stick any labels on it. But what he does know for sure, is that how he feels about Lucas, is like nothing he’s felt before in his life. Ever.

“What are you smiling about?” His mum eyes him suspiciously, and Eliott had no idea he was even doing as such. He did that a lot, catching himself absentmindedly smiling to himself when Lucas was drifting through his thoughts.

“Nothing,” He mumbles, blinking his eyes back into focus.

He watches his dad grin indicatively, “I know that look sure enough, is there a girl on your mind perhaps?” He raises his eyebrows perpendicularly.

Eliott inwardly rolls his eyes, growing more annoyed, “No.”

His mum walks up to him, reaching out a hand to pinch his cheek, “Are you sure, my Eli? You know you can tell us anything!” Eliott moves his face away from her grasp, groaning at the nickname she insists on using even though he’s no longer five-years-old.

And Eliott is so legitimately agitated by their nosiness that he decides to just shut them up. “It’s a boy. If you must know,” he says shortly.

He observes how his parents immediately fall quiet as they glance at each other, communicating secretly through their eyes. Eliott just feels even more irked now. _What are you thinking?_

“Eliott…” His mum looks to him timidly, speaking with caution, “How are you feeling? Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine. Great, actually.” He huffs, because _she already asked him this._

His dad speaks next in a more collected tone, like he was walking on a high wire and one wrong word would have him cascading down a thousand feet, “What your mum means, son, is have you been taking your medication?”

This is what tips Eliott over the edge, his blood boiling in waves of anger, crashing viciously like the sea on a storm filled cataclysm.

Were his parents insinuating that he was having a manic episode, because he admitted to liking a guy? It fucking gets under Eliott’s skin, he didn’t think they could even think that way. It hurts.

“I have been,” He declares, because _he has._  He hasn’t had a manic episode in months.

He will admit his regimen drifted off course for a short while when he was first getting to know Lucas. He tends to do that when he feels good, and he feels _so good_ when he’s with Lucas. He wanted to be able to feel that.

But skipping out his meds only sent him into a depressive state, causing him to miss too many days of school, lacking the energy to reply to his texts. So he knocked it in the head immediately, because he couldn’t be around Lucas if he was depressed. And not taking his medication only heightened the possibility of that happening.

His mother looks at him watchfully, like she didn’t fully believe his words, “Are you sure? Because last time this happened…” And didn’t she fucking trust him?

Eliott is frustrated, knowing what she was referring to. His last episode when he tried to kiss one of his friends, and freaked out when he got pushed away. It’s another memory he’s tried to shove into the unwelcome parts of his brain.

Eliott doesn’t really know why he did it, because again, he classifies it as something that just happened when he wasn’t himself. But it didn’t end well, that’s for sure, because Eliott was _so embarrassed._ He doesn’t think he could ever look the guy in the eye again, which sucks, because they used to be inseparable.

It was the same episode that caused him to miss and subsequently fail his bac. The episode that resulted in the loss of the majority of his friends, the people he thought he could trust the most. The episode that completely crushed him.

So Eliott is seething, because how could his parents compare Lucas to that? Lucas who was the spark of light that illuminated every dark corner of Eliott’s life. He was the one thing that Eliott needed, the ray of hope that didn’t make him feel so alone anymore.

So how fucking dare they think this was just some idea he had gotten into his head during a manic episode.

“It’s not like last time at all,” Eliott snaps, fury still churning within him.

His parents still look unconvinced, Eliott wants to scream, yell, cry. _Lucas is the most amazing person in the world._ He wants to shake them until they understand. _This is real. What I feel for him is real._

But instead he keeps a level head, breathing in a deep inhale of air to steady his erratic breathing, before speaking again. “We met a month ago, I can’t have been manic for that long, that’s what you think right? That I’m manic? I’m bipolar so there’s no way I could be capable of love?”

He breathes again, swallowing past the lump in his throat and continuing, “Because believe me, I know. I know it’s a bad fucking idea to fall for someone, I’m such a mess and nobody should have to put up with that. _I know._ ”

Eliott shuts his eyes, willing the tears forming in his eyes to stay put. _Don’t fucking let me down._

He can’t even look at them, they aren’t saying anything and Eliott wants to scream. _Tell me I’m wrong, tell me I do deserve love, you’re my parents goddamnit._

Finally, after what feels like hours of silence, of Eliott trying to hold back a sob, his mum speaks again, “I think it’s maybe just not a good idea right now Eliott. Not with everything that went on. You have your bac to focus on.”

A tear escapes past Eliott’s closed lids and he curses inwardly at the betrayal of his own eyes. Or maybe it’s the betrayal he feels from his parents, dejected feeling of emptiness.

 _Maybe you are alone after all_.

“Can you leave,” he says, it comes out in a whisper. It’s not a question, he wants them to leave, he needs to be alone.

“Eliott…” He hears his dad’s voice, pleading almost. But Eliott still can’t bring himself to look at them, he feels so utterly betrayed.

“Please. Go.” He adjures, letting his eyes flutter open apprehensively, afraid of the concerning looks he would evidently find on his parents faces. He tries to communicate his solemnity with soliciting eyes.

“Okay,” his mother mutters, understanding his anguish, “We’ll leave the casserole for you okay?”

Eliott nods. _Just go, please._

They leave, the door shutting with a sharp click, isolating Eliott within the eerie emptiness of his kitchen. The disparity between the chaos of his mum fretting over the cutlery and how he now stood in the hollowness, feeling like a knife had been stabbed through his stomach, is tortuous.     

Eliott heaves out a heavy sob, finally letting the built up emotions erupt out of him. He feels like he can’t breathe, tears streaming and breath hitching so forcefully he fears he might drown in it.

Pain seeps out from every pore in his body, a weep so raw falling from his lips it makes him shudder. He feels so betrayed.

He grips forcefully onto the kitchen counter behind him, afraid his legs might give in from how aggressively he was shaking.

And he can’t do this. He can’t be alone like this.

Eliott pulls out his phone, probably not thinking as clearly as he should be, but heading automatically for his most recent text conversation. It’s always there at the top. Always texting each other. Eliott needs him so desperately. His heart _aches_.

 **Eliott** **18:55**

_Are you busy? Can I see you?_

**Eliott 18:56**

_I need you._

**…**  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again!!!!! let me know of any inaccuracies, and so much love to all the amazing souls who share their experiences of bipolar online. 
> 
> let me know ur thoughts, love ur kind comments with my entire heart <3


	7. j'adore te voir sourire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i changed the summary of this fic because i am indecisive and felt this fit more heh sorry. i can't thank you all enough for your nice comments they make my heart smile <3

_« c’est cela l’amour, tout donner, tout sacrifier sans espoir de retour »_

_…_

 

**Saturday 16:09**

Lucas watches aimlessly as the streets of Paris sweep past in a blur from where he’s seated at the back of the bus, gazing absentmindedly through the window.

It’s overwhelmingly crowded, causing the windows to slightly fog up with condensation. Most likely a combination of humid stuffiness as people congest together, seeking refuge from the harsh rainfall, and the stark iciness of the glass wrapped in winter’s blanket.

The confinement of it isn’t easing the pit swirling in Lucas’ stomach whatsoever. He feels eminently trapped, confined within the restricted metal box. His chest is alarmingly tight, anxiety pulling at his throat and making him want to completely rip every layer of clothing off and claw at his skin to get some relief.

Lucas tries to take a steady breath, inhaling deeply in through his nose, holding it there for a few seconds, before releasing outwardly through his mouth. He repeats the motion a handful of times, but all it accomplishes is a disorienting feeling of light-headedness.

It’s a trick his mother would constantly remind him of when he grew anxious as a kid. _Just take a deep breath._ It always infuriated Lucas in a way, because it never seemed to work. _What do you mean breathe? I am breathing. But I still can’t fucking breathe._

Nonetheless, he still finds himself practicing the sequence every time, not really knowing what else to do. It was maybe just comforting, feeling like he wasn’t completely giving up and letting the anxiety consume him. At least he was aware it was happening, it was there, there wasn’t much he could do about it. He would just acknowledge it, welcome it almost. That way it wasn’t this overbearing thing that was crawling at his skin, it was just a _thing._ And it would pass eventually, it wasn’t going to kill him.

So he does his best to maintain that mind-set, it makes him feel more in control and less like a complete nervous wreck.

Lucas sighs as the bus pulls up to another stop and a couple more people push on. With the middle aisle area now completely filled, Lucas prays for his destination to hurry the hell up so he can break away from this feeling of imprisonment.

He was headed to the clinic, finally deciding to bite the bullet and go see his mother. He feels guilty at the fact it had taken him so long to make the journey. Lucas hasn’t been to visit her in _weeks,_ it’s definitely been over a month. And he hates himself for it. He had gotten so tangled up in his own whirlwind of issues that he’d completely shoved the matter to the deepest darkest corner of his mind. Not that it hadn’t niggling at him constantly. It fucking has.

Unfortunately, Lucas was aware that he only had a couple of hours to spare, with it being Basile’s birthday and their plans to go out. But he was doing it now, so that had to count for something. It wasn’t making him feel any less on edge though.

Lucas wracks his brain desperately for something less formidable to focus on, something to take his mind off the looming tension curling in his stomach.

Quite inherently, his thoughts drift to Eliott, because honestly when do they not? And Eliott always seems to make Lucas feel at ease. Even when they aren’t  anywhere _close_ to being within the same proximity, Lucas can embrace the serenity that bubbles through his senses at just the mere thought of Eliott.

Lucas thinks about the evening they had spent together a few days ago, Wednesday evening, and how it had been really fucking nice. They didn’t get up to much, simply just put on a few movies, ordered pizza, messed around on their phones. Lucas now has several, beautifully stunning candid photos of Eliott stashed away in his camera roll, (which he most definitely finds himself staring at so often that it’s just a matter of time before he burns a hole straight through his phone with his needing eyes).

He’s doing that now, scrolling through the burst of photos, lips tilting unconsciously as he gets to the one where Eliott had caught onto his actions.

“ _Are you taking photos of me?_ ” Eliott had smiled suspiciously, eyes questioning but still bordering on amused.

“ _It’s for science, just_.” Lucas had responded matter-of-factly, still snapping as Eliott giggled and covered his face in attempt to avoid Lucas’ meddling.

Lucas then struggled to pry his hands away, while Eliott shrieked comically, “ _No! Lucas! No flash photography!_ ”

His laugh in that moment had resembled that of the brightest melody Lucas has ever heard. Soft giggles venturing into harsher belly rumbles, causing Lucas’ heart to contract and expand recurrently in adoration.

“ _Next time you’ll have to contact my manager before you decide to secretly paparazzi me._ ” Eliott had teased, flicking Lucas on the nose once their play fight had died down. Eliott evidently winning. Although, Lucas still he thinks he’s the one who came out on top, looking at the photos he now has to gush over.

Lucas doesn’t think he’s laughed so much in one night in his entire life, his ribs ached with how much he found himself falling into hysterics with Eliott. They share a similar sense of idiotic and probably borderline childlike humour, finding enjoyment in the most silly inconsequential things, which only grew into delirium the longer the night stretched on, bursting into fits of giggles over absolutely nothing. And there wasn’t even any joints involved this time.

So yeah, it was _really fucking nice._

There may also have been some kissing instances, much to Lucas’ approbation. He would never be able to get enough of the thrilling feeling of Eliott’s lips against his own. How they were so soft and gentle yet persistent at the same time, it drove him utterly insane.

But it led to nothing further, unfortunately. Both of them exhausted and acutely aware of the fact it was a school night. So Lucas reluctantly left at around 10pm— which actually ended up extending to 10:30pm, as Eliott cornered him against the front door and distracted him from the task at hand for a further thirty minutes. Not that Lucas was complaining, he would have much rather stayed the entire night so he could experience waking up tangled up in Eliott’s warm embrace again.

It has only been just over a week since they first kissed, and yet Lucas feels like multiple eternities have passed within that short space of time. Everything just feels so _easy_ with Eliott. That’s the simplest way to put it. They bounce off each other like a house on fire, throwing light hearted digs, teasing, laughing, passing compliments.

Eliott loves giving compliments, Lucas has quickly come to register; _your eyes are pretty, I like this hoodie on you, I love how soft your hair is._ It causes Lucas’ heart to flutter and his cheeks to rise in temperature— something Eliott also gains a lot of satisfaction from, it’s actually pretty sadistic in a way, how he always manages to turn Lucas into a puddle of mush with just a few words.

But the downside is that Lucas has no fucking clue what they _are._

Like sure, it’s only been a week, but they haven’t discussed it whatsoever. Lucas doesn’t know if Eliott is out, Eliott doesn’t know that Lucas isn’t _out_ , they haven’t decided explicitly to keep whatever it is they are doing under wraps, that kind of just happened. They still haven’t brushed upon the subject matter at all— clearly they’re masters of avoiding heavy topics.

But Lucas needs to know. He needs to know if Eliott is as serious about this as he is. Because if Eliott is just looking for something casual— an exciting fling to pass the time— Lucas doesn’t think he would be able to handle that, it may just about crush him.

This is the first time in Lucas’ life that he has let someone break through the imperishable guard he had gradually built around himself throughout the years. Eliott had managed to slip between the tiny cracks almost instantly, knocking down the floodgate and crashing effervescently into Lucas’ heart with his breathtaking smile and beautiful laugh, it makes Lucas feel exceedingly vulnerable; stripped completely bare.

So he needs to find out before he goes and gets his heart broken, it would just be Lucas’ accustomed terrible luck that something as such would happen.

Thus, he makes a mental note to bring it up next time he’s with Eliott. The thought terrifies him slightly, confrontation clearly not being his forte. But it’s what Lucas needs to do.

He’s attempting to acquire a new outlook on life— after his conversations with Imane and Alexia, Lucas is slowly starting to realise how much of an impact holding everything in is having on him. He feels so emotionally drained _all the time_. But like Alexia had said, it’s not easy. Lucas doesn’t think he’ll ever find deep talks and discussing emotions easy, it’s just the way he is.

He’s trying though. He really wants to try.

The bus comes to a halt alongside the stop nearest to the clinic, and Lucas’ sense of disquietude alleviates only marginally as he finally gets up from his seat and winds through the crowd of standing passengers to make his escape.

Once Lucas is free he begins to make his way towards the clinic. The crisp air that infuses his lungs when he breathes in as he walks is tranquillising in comparison to the tainted ventilation of the bus. The wholesome breeze cools the scorching blood prickling his skin incessantly. It’s calming.

Although, it’s only a brief distance to the clinic, and admittedly Lucas would have preferred an extra few minutes to psych himself up for the conversation he was about to have. He pushes the main doors open, smiling at the lady who steps aside to let him venture in first. His nerves are still bubbling inside him as he wanders up to the reception desk.

“Hello, how can I help?” The woman at the desk smiles very overenthusiastically at him, Lucas profoundly envies her attitude in his current anxious state.

“Uh, I’m here to visit Marie Lallemant,” Lucas says. He hadn’t informed his mum he was dropping by, so he hopes she doesn’t mind. Maybe he was using it as a safety backdoor escape, so it wouldn’t look as bad if he changed his mind last minute and decided not to come.

The woman smiles impossibly wider, “Of course! Just make sure you sign in. The book is over there.”

Lucas makes his best attempt at returning her smile before making his way towards the book and signing his name. The gesture is the key that locks his escape route, there was no going back now. 

The place is exactly how Lucas had remembered it. It has a hospital like aroma about it, the unduly sanitised and secure feel masked with outrageously patterned wallpaper and an overpowering lavender scent. Lucas scrunches his nose at the memories it triggers within him. Some pleasant, others not so much; it’s almost bittersweet.

His mother’s door is shut, and Lucas knocks gently as he listens intently for any form of response.

“Yes?” Her voice comes out muffled from behind the door.

Lucas pushes it open slowly, sticking his head through to glance in, “Hey, can I come in?”

He doesn’t miss the slight look of shock that flashes across his mum’s features, before it’s swiftly replaced with joy. “Lucas! Oh what a surprise! Of course, of course. Come on in!”

She’s perched in one of the armchairs facing the window, a pair of knitting needles between her fingers as she knits away. Lucas can’t quite yet determine what it is, maybe a scarf. She looks well rested, more peaceful than the last time Lucas had seen her. That wasn’t a good week for her, he’s hopeful that today will be better given her seemingly placid state.

“How are you?” Lucas asks as he takes a seat in the other armchair parallel to her, a wonky legged table separating the distance between them.

His mum smiles warmly at him, and suddenly the nerves that had been stampeding Lucas’ entire being begin to float away, like grains of sand would filter elegantly through his fingertips on a warm summers day. His mother’s smile brings a comfort to his heart like no other. It’s not like the tender adoration Eliott’s smile laces delicately throughout his chest, it’s the feeling of assurance only a parent can provide. The stability of knowing there’s that one person who you’re connected to inheritably, their DNA is intertwined within yours, connecting you in a way that means forever. It’s comforting.

“I’m alright, darling. Just been doing a bit of knitting. How about you? How is school?” She places the bundle of wool onto her knee to provide Lucas with her full attention.

“Yeah it’s fine, just the usual really. Lots of homework.”

A short silence embraces them, and Lucas feels increasingly like an asshole for not addressing the looming elephant in the room. A new mind-set, he reminds himself.

“Sorry I didn’t visit for so long. Or reply to your messages,” He speaks sincerely, wanting to express his genuine remorse.

His mother purses her lips, head shaking vaguely while her eyes continue to diffuse warmth throughout the room and into Lucas’ bones. “Don’t worry, I know how busy things can get. What matters is that you’re here now. And I’ve missed you, I can’t wait to catch up.”

Lucas really doesn’t deserve her kindness, he deserves for her to be mad at him for abandoning her for so long. To yell at him, to be upset with him.

“I’m still sorry though. I should have come sooner,” he insists, because he genuinely doesn’t know if she gets many visitors besides his lousy ones. He highly doubts his dad has even attempted to make an effort. “And I missed you too.”

This causes his mum to grin wider, face expressing an ambiance that Lucas couldn’t even compare to the brightest sunset. It’s golden.

“What are you knitting?” He wonders aloud.

“Oh!” She perks up instantly, picking up the needles and holding up the material for him to see, looking awfully chuffed with her work. “Gloria down the hall has just had her first granddaughter, and I thought I’d make a blanket for the baby as a gift.”

The sentiment warms Lucas’ heart even more. He truly admires his mother immensely, how she’s been through so much devastation and pain, yet still manages to maintain such a positive outlook on life. Always giving, giving, giving and expecting nothing in return. Far too good for this world.

“That’s nice,” Lucas smiles, he means it.

They stay like that for a while, in opposite armchairs, his mum knitting absentmindedly while they chat. Lucas tells her about school and his friends, and she tells him about the new cook in the clinic who always saves an extra slice of pie for her. It’s nice, normal.

Lucas had missed this, had almost forgotten how much solace he finds in his conversations with his mother. How they would laugh and smile while telling each other about the most inconsequential details of their days, putting every worry to the back of their minds even just for a short while.

“So,” his mum begins warily not looking up from her knitting, but Lucas can just about spot the small smile playing on her lips. “Have you been seeing anyone recently? Any girlfriends to fill me in on?”

And there it is. Lucas knew the topic would inevitably come up, he had actually planned for himself to be the one to initiate the conversation. But, plans change he supposes.

“Uh…” He was growing increasingly nervous again, palms edging on damp as his eyes remain fixated on his mother’s movements, needle twiddling through one loop, then another.

Over and under, and over and under.

“Yeah I have, actually.”

She looks up at this, most likely not expecting that type of answer, “Oh yeah? Tell me!” She seems so genuinely interested it almost breaks his heart. He has no idea how she was going to react, it terrifies him.

“Well, it’s kind of new. I don’t really know exactly where we stand. But… yeah. It’s good.” He feels progressively more light-headed with every passing moment, he can  _hear_ the pounding of his heart pulsate throughout his entire body as his pulse speeds up.

“What’s her name?”

His mother is now looking at him so intently and Lucas almost tells himself he can’t do it. Almost. He _needs_ to do this. So he swallows every fibre of resistance aiming to pull him back and he fucking does it.

“Eliott.” He whispers it, hasn’t really meant for it to sound so quiet, it was a telling of his timid state probably. “His name is Eliott.” This time his voice comes out more assured, purpose intertwining his words.

He watches his mother’s face for any sign of retraction, or disapproval, or _something_. But he can’t read her, expression remaining neutral and almost vacant. However, Lucas keeps going, because he has a plan, and he promised himself he would do this. He wasn’t going to back away now, not at the very last hurdle. “Mama, I’m gay.”

Lucas feels his whole body sink as a tear slips past his mother’s eye, rolling down her sunken cheek. And he’s made his mum cry. He regrets the words instantly, aches to peel them straight from her mind and shove them back into his own mouth.

_Please don’t cry because of me. I’m so sorry._

He hadn’t realised he had started crying himself until he feels her hand reach across the table and rest along his cheek, fingertips brushing softly over the tears that fell there. He leans into her touch automatically. If this is the last time she was going to comfort him before cutting him out of her life for doing something her church was so avidly against then he wanted to suck every last second out of it. Wanted to hold onto it until it was bone dry.

“Lucas,” she whispers, forcing him to look up at her. It hurts him even more seeing the glassiness of her eyes and the damp smudges clumping her eyelashes together.

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpers, not being able to control the lump in his throat. He feels so exposed under her watchful gaze.

“Hey,” she shakes her head slightly, “Lucas, listen to me.” Lucas’ breath shudders. “You’re my son, and I love you. No matter what. I love you.”

Lucas is sobbing now, so many different emotions reeling through him and gushing out through every pore in his body, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” Her hand is still caressing his cheek, grounding him.

Lucas lets another few tears leak down his face as he gathers his breath to speak again, “But what about the church?” Because the church is so important to her. _He knows that_. What would her peers say if they knew she had a gay son? He doesn’t want to think about all the judging glances and nosy whispers she would have to experience in the one place she was able to go to find peace and solidarity. He’s completely ruined that for her.

“The church is the church. But you are my son. And I’m so proud of you. Do you hear me?” She’s speaking with so much sincerity it breaks him all over again, she pulls him from his seated position, embracing him into her arms.

Lucas shakes in her embrace, relief flooding out of him in the form of a thousand tears. He clings onto his mother tighter than he has since he was a young child waking up from a horrible nightmare. He clings onto her like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, like his life depends on it. And she clings back just as hard.

They separate reluctantly after a long while, Lucas not really wanting to let go right away. His mother picks her knitting back up and carries on as Lucas wipes his cheeks dry with his hoodie sleeve. Some of his tears had dried already, making his skin feel a little tight.

“I’d love to meet him sometime,” his mother smiles after a while, “Eliott.” She voices again, simultaneously clarifying who she’s talking about and experimenting how the name sounds falling from her lips. Lucas nods at his, he thinks his mother would adore Eliott.

“Tell me about him.”

Lucas does. He tells her everything, about how they met, how amazing Eliott is, how he never fails to make Lucas smile. And he also maybe lets her look at the selection of photos he had taken the other night, “Oh he’s very handsome!”

“Yeah.” Lucas breathes, “Yeah he is.”

**…**

Thankfully, Lucas doesn’t feel as anxious on the bus ride home as he did a few hours ago. Instead he feels content, happiness sizzling in his stomach as he stares into the windows of passing cars to entertain himself. He’s nosy like that.

It’s like a huge condescending weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Similar to the feeling he experienced when telling Mika, only this time it feels more significant, more prominent. Because this time he had actually said the words.  _I’m gay._ And shockhorror, the world hadn't ended. The buses where still running, people were still going about their days, the birds were still chirping from their treetops.

Lucas was still breathing.

He had left his mother with a sincere promise to come back very soon. And unlike last time, he thoroughly meant it. Wholeheartedly, Lucas meant it. He wasn’t holding anything back from her anymore, he had nothing to hide. Lucas had laid all his insecurities out on the table and she had still accepted him with open arms; told him that she loved him, no matter what. He feels elevated.

A sudden urge to run and spill the entire afternoon out to Eliott overcomes Lucas then. He wants to tell Eliott _everything,_ because he just feels so damn _happy_ right now.

However, it’s nearing 7pm and he’d planned to meet the guys at 7:30pm for Basile’s birthday, so he’s already cutting it extremely fine. Lucas is internally disappointed at the calculated decision he has to make, but realistically Eliott can wait for just one more night. He can see Eliott tomorrow, right now he had promised to join Basile for his birthday, and quite frankly it was the least he owed to his friends after bailing on them last time.

The universe likes to send Lucas subtle signs sometimes, he’s discovered recently. Small droplets of undefined fate seeping into his disaster of a life. Which in theory should be a good thing, but to be honest the universe has been making it particularly difficult for Lucas to remain impartial to finding the healthy balance between time spent with Eliott versus time spent with his friends.

So when his phone vibrates from the pocket of his sweatpants, he’s fully expecting it to be one of the guys initiating the plans for tonight. What Lucas doesn’t expect is a message from Eliott.

**Eliott 18:55**

_Are you busy? Can I see you?_

And _fuck_ Lucas has already crossed that possibility out of his mind. He’s trying not to be a flaky friend for once. He’ll have to tell Eliott he was busy, the thought crushes him. He wants nothing more than to be with Eliott at this moment in time. But he can’t. _He won’t_. 

Before Lucas has the chance to reply, a second message pops up.

**Eliott 18:56**

_I need you._

It causes Lucas to pause, the three words seem immensely desperate in a way. He doesn’t know what it is about them, but they spark something inside of Lucas. He can almost sense Eliott’s despair, almost like he was pleading. It’s all Lucas really needs to re-evaluate his previous verdict instantly.

**Lucas 18:56**

_I’ll be over in 5 minutes_

Lucas looks up from his phone and out of the bus window to gather his bearings. He guesses that getting off at the next stop he would leave him only a few minutes walk from Eliott’s apartment. Another sign from the universe, perhaps.

As Lucas rushes off the bus and makes his way towards Eliott’s apartment he gradually grows more worried. Eliott’s text had unsettled him slightly, because he could tell Eliott hadn’t meant it in a light-hearted flirty way, he would have added a ridiculous dosage of emojis otherwise, knowing his overuse of the things annoys the heck out of Lucas.

So Lucas can’t help but fear the worst, really. He could easily send Eliott another text to ask what the deal was but there was no _time_ or _point_. It would only slow things down, Eliott needs him and he can see the building just ahead.

Once Lucas has ventured the remaining distance to the building, climbing the stairs two at a time, he knocks the door with very little breath left in him. It takes a few moments for the door to click and shift open slowly, Lucas tapping his foot impatiently as if he had been waiting outside for hours.

The door is now fully ajar and the last few remaining pockets of air left in Lucas’ lungs are snatched from him forcefully as his eyes wrack over Eliott. Eliott who stands opposite Lucas looking completely, and utterly, shattered.

His eyes are rimmed red, their usual blue radiance faded to grey, dull and bottomless, like two little black holes. His face is pulled into a frown, cheeks stained with tracks of tears. They’re fresh, Lucas notes. Eliott had probably scrambled to hastily compose himself before opening the door, but Lucas sees the sorrow that twists in his features. From his curled in posture, how his shoulders hunch downwards, to the way he slightly avoids Lucas’ gaze and bites his lip timidly.

Lucas’ heart fractures into a trillion tiny shards of glass as he takes in the scene, his brain finally kicking into place and willing his muscles to move towards Eliott in front of him.

The way his hands reach for the sides of Eliott’s hoodie almost seems automatic. He fists the fabric, bringing him closer, then eventually wrapping his arms entirely around Eliott’s shoulders, enveloping his taller frame in a tight grip. He then uses his foot to reach behind him and push the door shut.

It’s comical how they were currently positioned. Eliott has a whole heads height over him, yet the way he curls into Lucas’ arms as if he was the smaller one— hands griping the material of Lucas’ hoodie, his nose pressed to the skin behind Lucas’ ear— tells Lucas how vulnerable Eliott must feel right now. 

He hiccups out a series of small sobs, making Lucas pull him closer, if that’s even possible. It breaks Lucas’ fucking heart. Eliott is too pure, too nice, too lovely, to ever have to experience such anguish.

So Lucas holds Eliott. Holds him as tight to his chest as gravity allows him to, rubbing soothing circles across his back. He holds Eliott until his small whimpers even out into short breaths, until he no longer feels damp tears landing onto his shoulder, until the vice grip Eliott has on his clothing loosens only slightly. 

Lucas lifts his head from Eliott’s shoulder, forcing him to do the same and meet his gaze. 

“Hey,” Lucas whispers, hands cupping Eliott’s face and using his thumbs to gently wipe away the tears that still traced his cheeks. 

Eliott’s eyes flutter shut at the movement, his damp eyelashes a shade darker than usual. Lucas rests their foreheads together, wanting to feel closer. 

“Talk to me,” he keeps his voice as soft as possible, not wanting to startle the quiet that had enclosed them within Eliott’s apartment. 

He feels Eliott secure the hold he had on his hoodie again as his lip wobbles faintly. His eyes squeeze shut, tighter, as if he was trying to regain control of his body and compose himself.

Eliott then shakes his head faintly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come here.”

Quite frankly, Lucas isn’t having that, no way is he going to allow Eliott to deject him like that when he was so clearly distraught and in need of someone right now. He can tell as such since Eliott was making no attempt to push him away despite his words.

“Don’t apologise, I want to be here.”

Eliott’s eyes peel open again, and he moves his face away from Lucas’ only slightly, “I just didn’t know what else to do.”

It comes out utterly defeated, it spirals Lucas’ thoughts into a panic, makes his heart ache and his body feel dysfunctional with the way Eliott is looking so powerless and lost. The distinct disparity between the lovely carefree Eliott he had gotten to know the past few weeks compared to the completely ruined boy stood in front of him is like a slap to the face. 

Lucas can’t bare it, he needs to fix this.

“Eliott,” he tries again, “What happened?”

Eliott purses his lips before speaking, “I had a fight with my parents. It’s so stupid.”

Lucas is shaking his head discordantly as soon as the words leave Eliott’s mouth, “It’s not stupid if it’s upset you this much.”

He feels Eliott’s hands move from their grasp on his hoodie to instead rest along Lucas’ hips. Lucas is still tracing his thumbs gently across Eliott’s cheeks because he wants to comfort him in any way possible but he doesn’t know _how_.

“I told them about you.”

It feels like a mound of bricks had just stampeded right on top of Lucas’ head, with the way another tear falls past Eliott’s lids and runs along Lucas’ thumb.

“Oh,” Lucas whispers, the sound almost disappearing into thin air with how quiet it comes out, “They didn’t take it well?” He questions, fearing one wrong word would crush Eliott’s heart even more.

Eliott shakes his head vaguely, a detached laugh tumbling past his swollen lips, “Not really.”  

“I’m so sorry,” Lucas says, this time he lets his voice portray more purpose, he wants Eliott to know how _damn fucking sorry_ he is.

And Lucas can’t believe how euphoric he had felt only less than thirty minutes ago, now with the dreaded feeling of desolation multiplying in his chest. He can’t believe how he and Eliott had both coincidentally decided to tell their parents about each other at the same time, yet both instances ended up having completely different outcomes.

Because while Lucas was feeling on top of the world, Eliott was over here feeling absolutely deflated. Lucas feels an eminent degree of guilt in a way.

“Not your fault,” Eliott murmurs, almost reading his thoughts. Lucas can see how swollen and red his eyes are from their proximity, harsh lines causing him to appear wholly debilitated.

“Did they not know you liked guys?” He fears the question is a step too far, but Eliott seems unfazed. Maybe he’s just too exhausted to care.

“I don’t know,” He shakes his head. Lucas wants to cry at the look of hurt and confusion masking Eliott’s features, like he can’t comprehend how his parents could react in such a way.

He continues, “I think they did, but it’s not something we’ve ever really discussed. My mum said she doesn’t think it’s a good idea right now, with the bac and all. I don’t know.”

Lucas lifts Eliott’s face from the slouched position it had fallen to, forcing him to meet his eyes, “And what do you think?”

Eliott’s eyes burn asteroids into Lucas’ irises as he pulls Lucas closer by the hold he currently had on his hips. Lucas can’t quite read his expression, the only transmission he’s able to fully register being intent.

“I think, I’m tired of people telling me how to feel.” Eliott speaks gently, eyes never leaving Lucas’, ingraining the words deep into his soul. “And that how I feel when I’m with you, is like nothing I’ve felt before. Ever.”

Lucas shudders out a breath, “Yeah?” His heart feels like he had just ran a marathon with how erratically it’s pumping, swelling with emotion.

“Yeah.”

Eliott’s hands are still gripping onto Lucas’ frame as Lucas holds his face, aligning their foreheads together once again. They ground each other, it’s the point of electricity that causes electrifying currents to wire through them, linking them together.

“Me neither.”

Lucas tilts his head slightly to brush their noses together, and his heart swells at the small smile Eliott awards him with. It’s the first smile he’s gotten since arriving at Eliott’s door. Lucas had missed  it with every bone in his body, it’s all he wants to see for the rest of his life.

“I love seeing you smile,” he voices the thought softly, words manifesting blatantly in the silence that engraved between them, the overbearing urge to let Eliott know getting the best of him. It only causes Eliott’s smile to grow more, his eyes showing their first flicker of luminescence as his expression lights up ever so slightly.

Their faces gravitate closer intuitively, because Lucas doesn’t believe there is another universe out there where they aren’t always aching to be closer; always closer, craving the touch of the others skin.

So when he feels warm breath ghost with his own, and the softness that embeds itself between them as their lips meet, it sends Lucas into an incoherent daze. He’s unreservedly consumed by the mesmerising part of Eliott’s lips, how his tongue paces perfectly with Lucas’. It’s addicting. Everything in Lucas’ head goes completely black to the point where all he can think about is  _Eliott, Eliott, Eliott,_ and how his lips taste vaguely of salt from the trace of tears that still linger across his skin.

They lose themselves equally the same, strained breaths leaving their noses because the thought of separating for air isn’t even on the agenda. It’s a sweet brush of curiosity, tentative purrs faded into searching and needing, noses sliding together with every head tilt, longing to be closer.

Lucas slides his hands into Eliott’s dishevelled hair, tugging gently at the strands and pulling a soft moan out of Eliott’s lips. Lucas feels it vibrate through him with the way their mouths were infinitely connected. Fuck. Eliott’s hands wander from their perch on Lucas’ hips in favour of cupping his face, thumbs caressing his cheeks. Lucas feels dizzy. He can’t quite confidently determine whether it’s from the brush of Eliott’s plump lips, or the current lack of oxygen circulating his brain. Probably both, to be honest.

Eventually, when they decide to allow their lungs room to breathe, their kisses and delicate touches dwindle down and reshape into subtle pecks on the lips. Kisses on the nose and across cheekbones, light breathless giggles and rosy cheeks surrounding them in the confined bubble they had decorated around themselves.

“I have an idea,” Lucas whispers as Eliott presses barely there nipping kisses to the line of his jaw.

“Mmhm?” He mumbles, not moving from his position, nose tracing along Lucas’ cheek.

Lucas giggles at the slight ticklishness of it, “Let’s get into bed and watch a movie. I’ve heard rumours of some pretty impressive cuddling that I’d like to test out for myself.”

Eliott lifts his head at this, bright smile quirking his lips, Lucas is taken aback by the etherealness of it. How evidently beautiful Eliott truly is.

“I like that idea,” he says, puffing out yet another enchanting giggle as he brushes their noses together for longer this time. Lucas is fucking _weak_ with endearment.

“Okay then, you choose the movie and I’ll sort the snacks,” Lucas affirms as he reluctantly peels himself out of Eliott’s grasp.

Eliott looks just as disapproving by the sudden lack of warmth radiating between them, but chuckles nonetheless, “Good luck, there’s not much in there.” He inclines his head in the direction of the kitchen.

Absurd, Lucas thinks, moderately offended. He raises his brows in a challenging tease, “How dare you underestimate me, Eliott Demaury. I’ll have you know I’m a prodigy in the kitchen.”

“Oh yeah? Alright then, Gordon Ramsay, I can’t wait to see what you come up with,” he jokes, not looking at all convinced as he begins to back away towards the bedroom. Lucas feels his competitive streak surface as he throws Eliott his best j _ust you wait_ glare and wanders into the kitchen.

And Eliott really wasn’t kidding when he said there wasn’t much in here, the cupboards are practically bare, save for a standalone casserole perched on top of the oven. But Lucas wouldn’t go there.

He lets out a satisfied hum when he lands upon a tub of cocoa powder pushed to the back of one of the cabinets. The idea striking in his head like light bulb. God, he’s such a fucking genius. Thankfully, Eliott isn’t a complete monster and actually has in-date milk stored in his fridge. So Lucas gets to work boiling the milk to the perfect level of froth before tipping in the cocoa powder.

Lucas watches as the milk intertwines with the powder, evaporating a sweet scent throughout the room. It’s calming. Something his mother would always prepare for him when he’d had a particularly shit day. The comfort of the beverage would always spread warmth through his entire body and make his bones feel fuzzy. Hopefully it could do the same for Eliott.

As he waits for the mixture to reach its desired temperature, Lucas feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He curses himself when he pulls it out and notices the time, and also the endless chain of messages from the _Le Gang_ groupchat.

**Le gang**

 

**Basile 19:06**

_Who is mf PUMPED????_

_You guys can come over whenever my family have left now_

**Yann 19:08**

_Cool bro I’ll come asap_

_It’s gonna be SICK_

**Arthur 19:11**

_ABSOLEUTLY_

_I’ll probs be there at half bro_

_Still need to stop for more beers_

**Basile 19:15**

_No problemo my dudes_

_I’M SO EXCITED_

_My first night as an 18 year old_

_I feel like a true man now_

**Arthur 19:16**

_Yeah Daphné better watch out_

**Yann 19:16**

_It’s just the beginning Baz_

_Think of all that beer you’ll be able to buy without your mums help_

**Arthur 19:18**

_HAHAHAH_

**Basile 19:18**

_Has anyone heard from Lucas?_

_Are you still alive out there bro?_

**Arthur 19:20**

_He hasn’t read the chats_

**Yann 19:22**

_Baz I’m outside urs now_

**Basile 19:24**

_Coming_

_Maybe he’s just on his way_

_We’ll ring him in a few_

Lucas wants the ground to eat him alive, he’s in the worst position currently, torn between what to do. On one hand he had promised his best friend he’d be there for his birthday, specifically remembering how he had used the words ‘ _wouldn’t miss it_ ’, but on the other he has a sad Eliott cuddled up in bed waiting for Lucas to come cheer him up with a mug of hot cocoa.

It’s an impossible predicament, any outcome would result in a devastation on one end.

The bubbling of the cocoa causes Lucas to advert his gaze away from his phone, removing the pan from the hob and distributing it into two mugs. Eliott doesn’t seem to own any cream or marshmallows, but it would suffice.

By the time Lucas has ventured into Eliott’s room with two steaming mugs in hand - to see Eliott bundled under his duvet, laptop open on his chest and scrolling through Netflix with his tongue pocking past his lips in contemplation - the decision has already been predestined for him. There’s no chance in hell he could leave now. And maybe it’s bordering dangerously on selfish, but _Lucas_   _doesn’t want to leave_.

“Voilà!” Lucas announces his presence, setting one of the mugs on the bedside table closest to Eliott, “I hope you like hot cocoa.”

Eliott’s face lights up with golden flickers, “Awh fuck! I completely forgot I even had this stuff!”

“Hmm,” Lucas hums teasingly as he crosses the room to set his mug on the opposite table, kicking off his shoes and sliding under the covers beside Eliott. He’s really fucking glad he had decided to wear his comfy clothes today, it adds to the comforting feeling. “What do you say then? Anything you wanna take back?”

Eliott looks back to his laptop screen, flicking through the selection of films. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, pretending to be oblivious, but there’s a stupid grin tugging at his lips. Lucas reaches under the duvet to nip Eliott’s hip, laughing when Eliott recoils in surprise.

“Okay okay! I’m kidding! Don’t do that I get ticklish, Lucas fuck.” He laughs, letting out a composed breath to ease his giddiness, slapping Lucas’ hand away, only to retrieve it again and link their fingers together. Lucas thrives under the attention, also at the newfound knowledge of Eliott’s ticklishness; he loves discovering every captivating aspect of Eliott’s body. Wants to know more. 

Lucas shuffles closer, pulling their linked hands to his chest as he lies on his side, watching Eliott who is sprawled out on his back. Lucas is about to move his own head to rest on Eliott’s shoulder— wanting to get a better view of the screen, but also just wanting to be closer to Eliott— when his phone starts to ring.

It’s fucking infuriating, Lucas sighs knowing exactly who is calling him and why. He unwillingly untangles his hand from Eliott’s to pull out his phone, seeing Yann’s name written across the screen. He mutes the call, throwing his phone onto the floor beside the bed and snuggling back into Eliott’s side. Eliott glances to him briefly but says nothing.

“What are we watching?” He says, wanting to forget the niggling at the back of his mind.

He sees Eliott purse his lips, “I can’t decide. How do you feel about rom-coms? And be honest.” Because of course. _Of fucking course_ someone as mysterious and cool as Eliott would be into rom-coms.

_Of course_. And it should be ridiculous, should cause Lucas to roll his eyes, but he only finds it immensely adorable. Lucas is truly and utterly fucked.

“I’ll watch anything,” He replies, because as long as he has Eliott lying here soft and beautiful beside him, he doesn’t really see himself paying much attention to whatever Eliott puts on anyway.

“Okay,” he mumbles, more to himself, seemingly satisfied.

Infuriatingly, Lucas’ phone begins ringing persistently again from its place on the bedroom floor. Lucas lets out another agitated huff as he turns around to reach for it. This time it’s Basile calling him. A twinge of guilt surges through him, at the sight of his name looming over his screen. The guys are going to fucking kill him, he should really send them a text or something. But truthfully, Lucas can’t think of a good enough excuse, doesn’t want to think about anything, really. So instead he shamefully watches as the call rings out.

“Is there somewhere you’re supposed to be?” He hears Eliott ask, the words are cautious, like he’s trying to mask his disappointment. Lucas can’t have that.

So he shuts his phone off altogether, allowing it to become a problem for another day. Right now, he has Eliott to distract from an exhausting afternoon. He then turns back around to face him, making sure to meet Eliott’s eyes, he wants to communicate his sincerity.

“This is where I need to be right now,” he affirms, because how is he supposed to leave Eliott now?

Eliott smiles gently, warm. “Are you sure?”

Lucas moves the laptop so it lies on the bed beside him, insinuating for Eliott to curl into his chest - which he does instantly. His arms wrapping across Lucas’ middle and nuzzling his face into his neck. “One hundred percent,” he whispers into Eliott’s hair, before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Eliott falls pliant under his touch. Lucas can relate.

“So are we watching a film or not?” Lucas asks.

Eliott positions the laptop to a more convenient angle to allow them both a better view from where he lay on Lucas’ chest, “We are.”

Eventually Eliott clicks play on the movie, _Crazy, Stupid, Love._ And places his head back onto Lucas’ chest, searching for his hand between the covers and linking their fingers again. Lucas feels his heart swell as Eliott presses a delicate kiss to his knuckles, and another to his chest, the soft ends of his hair tickling Lucas’ chin.

And Lucas had been absolutely right, he doesn't pay attention to the movie whatsoever. Instead he’s completely absorbed in the way Eliott chuckles at the funny parts and how his brows furrow adorably at the more serious parts.

He watches how Eliott plays absentmindedly with his fingers, eyes glued to the screen as the movie paces on. How his eyelashes flutter with every tired blink, how his lips curve intricately with every smile, how his nose scrunches with every giggle. He’s completely intoxicated by Eliott’s every movement.

So yeah. Lucas is truly gone.

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the i’m ticklish bit i'm trying to fill the elu void in my heart, miss them. i appreciate all your comments and kudos so much <33
> 
> quote is by albert camus.


	8. tu es important pour moi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very sorry this took so long, work has been taking over my life. finally had my first day off in like 2 weeks and so i literally wrote this entire chapter in one day :))))) pls enjoy (and apologies in advance if you find any typos)

_« entre deux cœurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles »_

_..._

 

**Sunday 09:19**

The etching sound of rain dancing across the bedroom window is what causes Lucas to shift awake, harsh whistles of wind ringing through his ears and prompting his eyes to flutter open. He squints at the vivid glow of morning light that had begun to peak through the blinds, casting a shadowed beam of light throughout the room, highlighting the floating dust particles that drift seamlessly through the air.

Winter had instigated a sporadic change of weather, Lucas was forever wondering how it could be simultaneously wet and windy yet sunny at the same time. Climate change is a real fucking thing he supposes. But it was comforting nonetheless, pattering droplets tapping against the glass window being one of his favourite sounds. The steady and soft beads tumble gracefully from the grey sky, igniting a melody so sincere it cancels out every chaotic and weighed thought buzzing through his mind. It’s soothing, it means Lucas doesn’t really have to think.

As sleep fades from his eyes, Lucas slowly feels himself become more aware of his surroundings. He idly registers the soft sheets tangled around his limbs, a clammy feeling of sweat gathering at the nape of his neck from where he had fallen asleep still wearing his hoodie. Then there’s the deadweight of another body sprawled across his chest, and the nuisance that is Eliott’s hair plastered across his face, tickling his nose and poking at his mouth.

Lucas flattens a hand to the top of Eliott’s head while moving his own back and scrunching his nose in an attempt to free his face from the mouthful of locks. He allows his fingers to linger within the softness of the strands, enjoying the velvety sensation that brushes his fingertips as he gently scratches Eliott’s scalp.

He smiles as Eliott lets out a muffled murmur in his sleep at the motion, his face unconsciously pressing closer into the crook of Lucas’ neck. Eliott’s parted lips puff warm breaths into Lucas’ skin like the space was specially made just for him. Lucas truly believes it was, he doesn’t think any other person in the world could fit alongside him like Eliott so effortlessly does. Like pieces of a puzzle slotting together to create one complete depiction of softness and loveliness.

It’s a stark polarity to the morning he had woken up with Eliott already awake, and again once he had left. This time around Lucas can fully appreciate the ambient etherealness that Eliott radiates. And Lucas _knows_ Eliott is indisputably gorgeous; in every way. But something about the peacefulness in his features as he huffs out faint breaths feels so quietly intimate and lovely, familiar almost. How in his state of quietude his muscles fall pliant, melting within Lucas’ embrace. It’s a side to Eliott he hasn’t seen yet, a delicate side that makes Lucas ache to his bones, happy to the point of euphoria.

Last night Lucas had felt every sharp needle pinch at his heart as he took in the sight of a broken Eliott sobbing into his shoulder. It pained Lucas in more ways he can even describe to see the golden vibrancy Eliott usually exuded fade into burning embers of vulnerability, drifting away with the wind and leaving him engulfed in desolation.

But Lucas wouldn’t have let Eliott notice his own disquietude though, he had to be there for him. Because Lucas _knows_ what it’s like to feel alone like that, like nobody understands you. He wants Eliott to know he has someone reaching out for him, a constant stability grounding him when he feels like he’s falling.

So Lucas had put every living fibre of strength he had in him into making Eliott feel whole again, to bring the iridescent smile back onto his lips. Because Lucas cares so much about Eliott it terrifies him, and seeing him so upset like that completely crushes his heart, it feels  _wrong_. Someone as wonderful and wholesome as Eliott doesn’t deserve to feel such sorrow, Lucas wasn't going to allow it.

There wasn’t much he could say though, Lucas could sense that Eliott didn’t particularly feel like talking about it. So instead he hoped he could bring the boy serenity through his actions. He hoped he could alleviate every fraction of despair Eliott had felt and transform it into something more hopeful with every gentle touch of his skin and brush of their lips, moulding together and allowing every trouble float away along with the current.

Wholeheartedly, Lucas hopes it had been enough.

Lucas feels the soft flutter of Eliott’s eyelashes sweeping against his neck, an incoherent mumble falling from his lips as he begins to stir awake. Lucas is still massaging circles to his scalp, gradually easing him from his slumber.

“Mmhf.” Eliott’s face eventually peaks up, squinting towards the sun beamed window and then at Lucas in slight disorientation. The way the warm rays reflect into Eliott’s eyes creates a slight green hue to their usual icy blue. Lucas is once again taken aback by how breathtakingly beautiful he is, how his eyes glisten like atoms; minuscule in comparison to the enormity of the universe, but still so immensely powerful, electrifying.

“Hey,” Lucas whispers, running his fingers through the lose strands of hair that fell along Eliott’s forehead and smiling as he blinks repeatedly to clear the sleep from his eyes, he looks like a confused puppy. It’s fucking adorable.

Eliott’s head drops onto the pillow next to Lucas’ with a sigh, but he keeps his body still half hanging over him, their legs tangled infinitely together with no clear end, anchored.

Lucas twists his neck to follow the movement, reaching over to brush the back of his fingers along Eliott’s cheek, “How are you feeling?”

Eliott purses his lips, leaning into Lucas’ touch before grinning complacently, a twinge of mischief lining his eyes, “Better now with someone as hot as you in my bed.” It pulls a sudden unexpected laugh out of Lucas, rolling his eyes at Eliott’s ridiculousness.

“Hot, huh?” He prompts, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Eliott’s smile grows as he continues to tease, “Are you fishing for compliments now?” Lucas assumes it was supposed to sound sarcastic, but Eliott is still half asleep and it just comes out halfheartedly fond and raspy.

And so what if Lucas was? He enjoys the butterflies that Eliott sets loose in his stomach every time he voices a thought as such, sending fluttering energy throughout every surface of Lucas’ body. Lucas shrugs innocently before moving to rest their foreheads together on the pillow they were sharing, giggling into the same space.

“I’m okay though,” Eliott speaks again after a moment, this time with more sincerity, “Thank you for coming over.”

Lucas shakes his head slightly, the motion causing Eliott’s own head to mirror the movement. “Of course I’d come over, you don’t need to thank me,” he says, because it wasn’t even a question. Lucas thinks he would drop everything and run straight to Eliott’s side any time of the day with just the click of his fingertips. It’s a scary thought.

”You had other plans though.” It’s less of a question and more of a wondering statement, innocently prying. 

Lucas’ lips purse, his fingers reaching over to fiddle with the drawstrings of Eliott’s hoodie, trying to come up with a response that doesn’t make him sound like the complete asshole he indubitably was for ditching his friend on his birthday. He’s also momentarily thrown a bit off guard with how Eliott is able to so effortlessly read him, because he had never once told Eliott of his plans. Eliott somehow just _knew._

Or maybe Lucas is just too fucking transparent, expressions always like that of an open book, portraying every diminutive emotion he feels in the form of a slight frown or glistening eyes. It’s a curse and a blessing all the same.

”Yeah,” He breathes out in almost a sigh, because there’s no point in lying now, Eliott would only just see straight through him. “But it’s all good, okay? I don’t want you to think I felt like I _had_  to stay, because it’s not like that at all. I wanted to. I promise.”

”I still feel bad through, I hope it wasn’t important.” And Eliott seems so apprehensive it’s such a disparity to his usual confident aroma. It doesn’t sit right with Lucas, he doesn’t want Eliott to feel timid around him.

So he shakes his head again, hands moving to rest against Eliott’s cheeks to cup his face gently as he speaks, wanting to stress how utterly sincere he was, “You’re important to me.” He means it, so undoubtedly so, with everything in him. Eliott is so fucking important to him.

It causes Eliott to smile shyly, a hint of bashfulness lining his eyes. Lucas brushes his fingers along his cheeks, feeling the mild rosy heat against his skin. And Lucas is only moderately satisfied with the knowledge he could make Eliott blush as easily as he was able to make Lucas blush.

”Okay,” Eliott whispers.

Its quiet then for a while, both of them content with resting face-to-face, sharing the same air. Lucas tries to imprint in his mind the image of how Eliott’s eyes glisten in the morning sun. He wants to remember the beautiful intensity of it forever.

Eliott speaks again, a mischievous hint to his tone, “I’m serious though, I might have to throw you out if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what!?” Lucas scoffs, because that’s ludicrous. Lucas will not be held culpable for the involuntary expressions Eliott’s adorableness surges out of him.

“Just all cute like that.” The giggle Eliott fails to supress melts Lucas’ heart, his eyes lighting up majestically against the morning glow. 

Lucas will also not take any accountability for the blush that spreads its way across his cheeks, heat rising further as Eliott’s arms circle around his waist, hands wandering underneath his hoodie to tug him closer. A shiver cascades up Lucas spine as Eliott’s large hands splay across the bare skin on his back, igniting static shocks with every brush of his delicate fingertips.

“You’re beautiful,” Eliott whispers softly, the words almost intangible in the dimly lit room, the only source of light being the sun seeping in through the blinds.

But Lucas catches them. He finds those words and lets them seep into his body, giving them a life and meaning in the safest corner of his heart. It’s not the first time Eliott has told him this, he’s always distinctly vocal with thoughts as such, bare and honest. It makes Lucas weak.

Although he never really knows how to respond, what’s he supposed to say? _Thank you. But not as beautiful as you. Nothing could even compare. You’re like nobody I’ve ever met before._

Because Lucas isn’t all that good with words, always finds himself becoming tongue-tied and overwhelmed in the heat of the moment. So instead he makes sure Eliott understands the burning emotions he brings out of him in every action. He had told Eliott how intrigued he was with every searching gaze, told him how strongly he ached for his touch with a piano melody, and then Lucas had told Eliott how much his heart cared for him with every kiss; every sweet peck, every lingering brush of lips, every passionate glide of tongues. Hopes Eliott will understand.

It’s why he angles forward now, so close he can feel the flicker of Eliott’s eyelashes synthesising with his own, until their lips meet vehemently. It’s lingering and soft, tentative lips longing and lacing together with warmth.

Eliott places a hand to Lucas’ cheek, and Lucas circles his fingers around his wrist, feeling Eliott’s pulse there, how it thuds against his thumb. He can feel the shadow of a smile tug at Eliott’s lips and he can’t refrain from his own lips echoing the gesture.

It’s not the most coordinated of kisses they’ve shared; it’s all uncontrollable grins, clinking of teeth and the faint staleness of morning breath. But it’s nothing short of perfection, Lucas loves Eliott’s lips, can never get enough of them and how they make his heart flutter and his knees go weak.

“Stop laughing!” Lucas giggles impishly, breaking away as Eliott’s grinning becomes so absurd it makes it impossible for Lucas to catch his lips. “Your obnoxious teeth are getting in my way,” he teases.

“What’s wrong with my teeth!?” Eliott asks, scandalised.

Lucas can’t help the fond look he exudes, smiling sweetly as he moves forward again, “Nothing. I love your teeth,” mumbling into Eliott’s lips, pressing an insistent peck there, “And your lips too. Love your lips.”

It does nothing to falter Eliott’s smile, which is the complete opposite of what Lucas was aiming for. He’s not complaining through, he also loves Eliott’s smile; how his eyes light up entirely with it.

They giggle again, limbs fumbling to tangle around each other. Lucas tucks himself under Eliott’s chin as Eliott wraps his arms securely around Lucas’ shoulders, holding him close. It’s Lucas’ favourite place to snuggle up to, he thinks, it feels safe, almost like home.

A sudden growl tumbles from Eliott’s stomach then, causing Lucas to reluctantly pull away to meet his gaze. He raises a questioning brow, “Hungry?”

“Yeah,” Eliott answers, one hand moving to stroke down Lucas’ back. “I might have to run to the store and get us something. I’m not a magician in the kitchen quite like you are.”

“Mhm,” Lucas hums, “I’m glad we can agree.”

“Fuck off! You haven’t even tried my cooking yet!” Eliott chuckles, only moderately wounded.

“And I can’t wait.”

Eliott narrows his eyes, “No need to sound so sarcastic. I don’t even have to make you breakfast.” He’s trying to sound offended, but one look at Lucas’ mischievous smile and bouncing brows sends them both into another fit of giggles.

“I’ll be quick, okay?” He presses a peck to Lucas lips, before untangling his long limbs and moving off the bed. Lucas nods, hating the feeling of not having Eliott pressed up against him. But he’s damn hungry as well, so he’ll make the sacrifice.

He watches as Eliott rummages through his drawers for clean clothes, swapping the hoodie he slept in for a fresher one. Lucas eyes the discarded material lying on the edge of the bed and makes a mental note to steal it later. 

Sue him.

Before he leaves, Eliott kneels over Lucas on the bed to steal another kiss. “One for the road,” he mumbles into Lucas’ mouth, making Lucas shove his shoulders away.

“Go!” Lucas laughs, hearing Eliott’s own chuckles disappear down the hallway and out of the apartment door, fading until he’s eventually left alone in silence.

Lucas allows himself to bask in the stillness for a moment, smiling fondly after Eliott. He feels so fucking _happy,_ so much he could almost just about forget the raging storm he had created beyond the safe bubble of Eliott’s apartment. Almost.

He signs, accepting the inevitable and reaching for his phone which was still lying abandoned on the floor. It burns a hole through his hands as he holds it, fiery anxiety piercing through him. He’s vastly fearful of what he’ll find as he holds in the power button, watching as the screen comes to life.

It’s nothing less than what he had expected, long strings of texts and missed calls flying in. They’re mostly from Yann, a few from Arthur and Basile, and then a text from Mika. It’s the one he replies to first, with it being the less daunting of the bunch.

 

**Mika 20:09**

_I have Yann messaging me again asking where you are, I’m assuming you’re okay. Let me know if there’s a problem_

**Lucas 10:15**

_Fuck I’m sorry, I’m okay. Sorry I keep getting you involved_

**Mika 10:15**

_Don’t worry kitten, I told you I have your back_

**Lucas 10:16**

_Thank you_

_< 3_

 

Lucas then rolls his eyes at the ridiculous sting of insinuating emojis Mika sends him. But he can’t even be annoyed in the slightest, he owes Mika his fucking life.

The texts he decides to deal with next bring a much larger degree of unease to his stomach.

 

**Yann 19:31**

_Yo bro everyone is at Basile’s now, you on ur way?_

**_3 missed calls from Yann_ **

**Yann 19:40**

_Lucas???_

_Is everything okay? Answer our calls!!_

**_2 missed calls from Yann_ **

**Yann 20:14**

_If it’s your mum again just let me know, Basile will understand_

_???_

**Yann 20:27**

_We’re not going to beg anymore Lucas_

_Just call me when you can_

 

Lucas feels remorse swirl at the pit of his stomach, it forms harsh winds inside of him and causes his skin to crawl with guilt. He’s the biggest asshole ever. But the thing is he didn’t even  _mean to be_. When Lucas finds himself in an overwhelming situation his fight or flight senses kick in, and in that moment of stress he always seems to opt for flight. Choosing to run as far away from his problems as humanly possible instead of staying to face them. It’s cowardly, he knows that. But it’s all Lucas knows. It’s the only way he’s able to relieve the chaos whirling through his mind.

Just shut it off.

He’s been trying to get better at it though. Lucas _has_ been doing better. He came out to Mika and his mum, he had reached out to Imane and Alexia for advice, he’d let himself have this thing with Eliott. Slowly, Lucas has allowed himself to enjoy the things he never would have looked twice at a year ago. Damn, even a couple of weeks ago. But it doesn’t mean he wasn’t going to slip up sometimes, like last night. The pressure got the best of him, it causes him to make rash and uncalculated decisions.

Lucas will forever stand by the choice he made last night to stay with Eliott, but he could have handled it better. He could have sent Yann a text or answered Basile’s calls. He could have done _something_.

It’s why he now lies in Eliott’s bed, phone pressed to his ear waiting for Yann to pick up. Lucas hopes he’s already awake, not wanting to piss him off even more in his likely hungover state.

“ _Hello?_ ” Yann’s voice is hoarse with sleep when he answer, sounding disorientated.

Lucas curses at himself for waking him. “Hey, it’s Lucas,” he supplies, assuming Yann had answered without looking at the caller ID.

He was right, as Yann pauses for a moment seemingly taken off guard, before speaking again only shortly, “ _Oh._ ”

Lucas takes his silence as an opportunity to cut in and voice his contrite. “I’m so fucking sorry about last night. I really am. I’m such an ass. I understand if you’re all mad at me.”

“ _No one’s mad at you, Lucas. We’re just worried,”_ Yann responds. “ _We couldn’t get hold of you, for all we know you could have been lying in a ditch somewhere.”_ He sounds pleading almost.

“I know. I’m sorry _,”_ Lucas feels ashamed.

Yann continues, this time with more caution, “ _Was it your mum again?_ ”

“Yeah _,”_ Lucas lies. He hates himself for it, how easily it falls from his lips, it doesn’t make it taste any less sour though, the foulness of it making him uncomfortable and causing his stomach to churn. He hates lying to Yann.

“ _Do you want to talk about it?_ ”

Lucas really doesn’t. There’s nothing to talk about, because truthfully his mum was doing fine. “Not really,” he murmurs.

Yann sighs, “ _Okay_. _Just—_ ” There’s another pause, Lucas can almost hear the words fumbling around in Yann’s brain as he tries to formulate the right thing to say. “ _We just don’t know what’s up with you recently. And I feel like it’s more than your mum. But you won’t talk to me anymore, Lucas. You’re so distant and I don’t know how I can help you._ ”

His words slice deep into Lucas heart. It pains him knowing the effect his shitty behaviour is having on his best friend, not once has Lucas stopped to think about how all of this would effect Yann. Always just thinking of himself. He had been so egotistical he hadn’t even considered the possibility of his detached mood impacting Yann in any way other than annoyance.

Yann was hurt.

“I know I’ve been really shitty recently, I just have a lot going on. It’s stressing me out.”

“ _But you don’t want to talk about it,”_ Yann states. It’s not a question, he already knows the answer.

Lucas feels a million times worse, he feels like crying. “I can’t. Not yet _._ ”

He hates that he’s created this distance between them, Yann was supposed to be his best friend and Lucas is just making him feel helpless.

“ _It’s fine. As long as you’re okay. You’re okay, yeah?_ ” He questions then, because he’s too fucking good for this world, another thing Lucas doesn’t deserve right now.

“Yeah. I just need more time, _”_ Lucas whispers. He almost thinks Yann misses it, with the silence that takes over, but he speaks again before Lucas can repeat himself.

“ _Well I’m here. Whenever. Just don’t take too long, bro.”_ It’s sincere, but edging on a warning: _I’m here for you, but I won’t wait around forever._

It’s the wakeup call Lucas needs. He can’t keep living his life in limbo, lying to some people and hoping the people who do know his secrets don’t accidentally let them slide. Constantly watching his back, afraid of what people might be thinking about him. It wasn’t fair on his friends, or Eliott, or himself.

But not yet.

Lucas needs time. It’s selfish, some could say he’s already had seventeen years worth of time to sort his shit out, but it could never be enough to ease the anxiety he feels when he thinks about coming out wholly, not being able to go back. Because there’s no rewind button for something like that, it’s terrifying.

So not yet. But he will, _he will_. Lucas will.

**…**

 

**Sunday 10:54**

Eliott had arrived home enthusiastically with a bag of groceries in hand, calling out into the apartment for Lucas’ whereabouts. Lucas was in the bathroom, taking advantage of the mouthwash in Eliott’s cabinet, the tingling strength of it had burned Lucas tongue.

He had stolen Eliott’s hoodie and he wasn’t going to try to justify it, because he simply just wanted to. Eliott only had it coming for himself when he just left it lying there, staring Luacs right in the face. It was soft. The sleeves fell so far beyond Lucas’ hands he had to roll them up. It was warm, and it smelt like Eliott, the familiar fragrance sent fuzzy feelings to every corner of Lucas’ body.

Eliott’s eyes had only faltered briefly as he greeted Lucas in the kitchen, a small smile tugging at his lips when he noticed. Lucas had just hopped up onto the counter beside where Eliott was beginning to lay out ingredients, a smug look on his own face.

That’s where they are now, Eliott throwing all sorts into the frying pan while they both watch the questionable creation sizzling away. Lucas scrunches his nose as Eliott dumps a handful of onions into to the scrambled egg concoction.

“Are you trying to poison me?”

Eliott looks up at him, appalled, “How dare you. It’s going to be delicious, trust me.”

He looks so sure of himself it pulls a laugh out of Lucas, he wasn’t entirely convinced though, “If you say so…” Eliott just narrows his eyes, it makes Lucas chuckle even more, especially when Eliott pokes his cheek teasingly. 

Lucas lets his head fall back against the cabinet behind him, shamefully watching Eliott as he goes back to chopping up more vegetables. He watches how his bottom lip curls under his teeth and the area between his brows furrows slightly in concentration. It’s simultaneously the cutest and hottest sight Lucas has ever seen. He’s making no effort to hide his gawking, somehow finding a burst of confidence deep within him, wanting Eliott to know the effect he has on him.

“You’re making me nervous,” Eliott says, not even having looked up from his current task.

Lucas smiles at this, licking his bottom lip slowly, itching for Eliott to follow the movement. He doesn’t, much to Lucas’ dismay. Instead his eyes remain unwavering and finding particular interest in the slight smudge mark on a red pepper. He still has a subtle tilt to his lips though, it’s exceedingly satisfying.

“You? Nervous? No way.” Lucas speaks in disbelief, mocking outrage.

It gets Eliott to finally look up, shrugging innocently, “You make me nervous.” The way he says it is so unfaltering that it pulls at the strings of Lucas’ heart.

“Good nerves, I hope,” Lucas says softly, suddenly feeling a degree of intensity surrounding them. Eliott nods smiling, “Of course.” Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is, Lucas has already identified the fact that Eliott also surfaces all types of nerves within him.

”I always knew you’d be confident deep down. It’s really hot,” Eliott speaks again.

Lucas can’t help the giddiness he feels, “You don’t still think I’m shy then?” He teases, remembering how Eliott had said as such a few weeks ago. Eliott just stares at him in a way that says _I’m so done with your shit,_ but it’s dripping with fondness nonetheless.

Lucas can only chuckle, he understands what Eliott means. Lucas is the type of person to appear shy and reserved to people who don’t really know him, but once he lets someone into his life and begins to feel more comfortable around them, he lets his confidence peak. Eliott should only take it as a compliment. Because Lucas feels so damn comfortable around Eliott it brings out a confident streak in him he didn’t even know he had. 

Eliott makes him _feel things_.

**...**

“So how is it?” Eliott queries expectantly once they had both moved to the kitchen table, and begun to make a start on the buffet Eliott had thrown together.

Lucas ponders for a moment, “The croissants are really good.”

“Heyyyy…” Eliott draws out, pouting, “That’s the only thing I didn’t cook!”

It’s really fucking cute, the look he gives him, it makes Lucas smile, “I’m kidding, it’s strangely good. I don’t know why.”

“It’s because I made it, duh.” Eliott shakes his head at Lucas from the opposite side of the table as they face each other, legs tangled underneath.

And it’s so fucking lovely. Eliott is so fucking lovely. Lucas adores how they bounce off each other so fluently, always making each other smile. Lucas wouldn’t give this up for anything. Ever.

The thought is what causes Lucas to blurt out his next question, he’s not really thinking, like at all. It just comes out, his mouth abandoning all forms of filter.

“What are we?”

Eliott looks up from his food, mouth pausing mid chew as he watches Lucas inquisitively. The question is left increasingly more vulnerable in the open air the longer Eliott goes without saying anything. Lucas can almost empathise with it; how he feels totally stripped bare, his heart placed on the line, waiting for Eliott to either catch it and hold it close, or watch as it slips from his grasp and falls into oblivion.

It feels like an excruciating amount of hours pass before Eliott finally speaks, his words definite in the hushed room. “I don’t know,” he says, but continues, “I think you know how I feel.”

It’s not an answer, and it only infuriates Lucas slightly. He wants to think he knows how Eliott feels, hopes it’s on the same wavelength as how Lucas feels himself. But he _doesn’t know_.

He knows that what they’ve shared the past couple of weeks is something Lucas hasn’t let himself share with anyone else before _ever_. He knows he’s allowed himself to be intimate with Eliott in ways he never has before _._ He knows he’s allowed himself to become vulnerable like that, he’s given Eliott complete power over his heart, what Eliott decides to do with it will only be the consequence of a decision to let go that Lucas could never allow himself to regret, no matter what.

“And how do you feel?” Lucas asks, wanting to hear him say it.

Eliott’s lips tilt faintly, eyes boring holes into Lucas’, “That I really like you.”

It’s earnest, and it makes Lucas’ cheeks turn crimson. “Me too,” he whispers, breathless with how Eliott has robbed every last bit of air from his lungs.

“So I guess that makes us a _thing_ then,” Eliott proposes, eyebrows raising suggestively. Lucas frowns, “ _A thing_...” He doesn’t like how the words sound coming from his lips.

It’s not necessarily the response he had been looking for. Because it doesn’t mean anything, but it could also mean so many things. It feels so undefined, doesn’t feel right. To Lucas what they have is more than just ‘ _a thing_ ’.

Eliott must sense Lucas’ unease, because he reaches across the table to grasp Lucas’ hand, “A very exclusive thing.” He makes sure their eyes meet as he speaks, “I can’t ask you to be my boyfriend until I take you out on a proper date, can I? That’s the rules.”

Lucas can’t help but smile, his brows heightening, “The rules, huh?”

Eliott nods with great certainty, “Yeah. I want to do this properly.” Lucas hums in response, every last fragment of doubt drifting away, replacing itself with an overwhelming feeling of bliss. 

Hesitantly, Lucas purses his lips, “My friends don’t know,” he whispers, because he might as well just get everything out in the open now.

Although, surprisingly, Eliott doesn’t seem fazed, “I kind of figured.”

“I’m going to tell them. I just—“ Lucas shakes his head at himself in frustration, _you just what?_ Frankly he has no fucking clue. How does he explain to Eliott the irrational mental block in his head.

But Eliott doesn’t seem to need an explanation. “Hey,” he smiles warmly, his thumb tracing a soothing pattern to Lucas’ hand, “It’s alright, we have all the time in the world.”

Lucas doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve someone as wonderful as Eliott stumble into his life. Always knowing exactly what to say, it’s almost too good to be true.

”Okay,” Lucas breathes.

They’re grinning at each other ridiculously now, neither of them able to control the happiness bubbling within them. Lucas feels elevated, like another one of the burdensome weights had been relieved from his back. He can stand a little bit taller now, knowing exactly where he and Eliott stand. It’s alleviating.

“Come here,” Eliott mumbles, still smiling as he gestures for Lucas to join him on his side of the table.

Lucas does, without a second thought. He stumbles around the table and falls neatly into Eliott’s lap in a kind of straddle, wrapping his arms around his neck as Eliott pulls him closer by this waist. When they kiss its electric, Lucas can feel the sparks crackling like fireworks behind his eyelids. The thought is undeniably cliché, but that’s the type of corny shit Eliott brings out of him.

The kiss becomes exceedingly heated almost instantly, their lips sliding together between hot breaths, Lucas’ hands moving to tangle in Eliott’s hair while Eliott spreads his fingers across Lucas’ lower back, pressing firmly.

Lucas moans as Eliott’s tongue searches his mouth, falling completely pliant in his arms and feeling increasingly needy, aching to feel Eliott everywhere. Eliott’s hands slide down to grasp Lucas’ ass. It’s so fiercely thrilling and intense it makes him shudder out a heavy breath, arching his back under Eliott’s hold. He can feel Eliott growing hard, it sends a rush of blood down through him.

“Lucas…” Eliott whimpers between kisses, their lips swollen and bitten.

“Mmhm,” Lucas mumbles incoherently, losing himself within the wrecked sound of his name tumbling from Eliott’s lips.

Lucas grinds down into Eliott’s lap, pulling a half hiss, half moan out of the both of them. “Fuck,” Eliott shudders, mouth hot and heavy against Lucas’ as he licks and bites along his lips.

It goes back and forth like that for a while, tongues chasing and hips circling together to create friction. It drives Lucas fucking insane. Eliott too. Lucas can tell from the soft whines he continues to huff out. 

“Want—“ Lucas begins to mutter against Eliott’s lips, but isn’t able to finish as his mind goes blank when Eliott pulls him closer in a way that produces just the right amount of friction. The drag of pleasure causes him to let out a pleading moan.

“What do you want?” Eliott breathes hotly, his eyes falling dark and intense as they search Lucas’ face. 

And Lucas _doesn’t know. Fuck._ He wants everything, he thinks. Wants to feel Eliott everywhere. He’s pulsating with need and want - it’s so prominent it makes him feel dizzy, just _wanting_ so desperately.

Lucas just shakes his head, fingers digging into the side of Eliott’s face in attempt to ground himself and regain some level of control over his unruly body. 

“Anything. Just—“ He still can’t finish, because Eliott keeps doing that _thing_ with his hips and it’s making Lucas go stir-crazy. Eliott smiles mischievously then, slight playfulness dancing in his eyes. Lucas has no time to question it as Eliott stands in one swift movement, his arms braced under Lucas’ ass to hold him up. And it’s the most ridiculous thing ever, he can’t help but chuckle briefly as Eliott begins to carry him to his bedroom. It doesn’t do anything to falter Lucas’ pent up frustration though, because Eliott is  _strong,_ andmaybeLucas doesn’t hate the feeling of being manhandled by him entirely. 

Fuck. He needs Eliott to _do something._ And soon.

When Eliott drops Lucas onto the bed he feels himself melt into the sheets, Eliott hovering above him beautifully. Lucas’ hips buck up involuntarily as Eliott leans down to kiss him again, one hand grasping the hair at the nape of his neck and the other fisting the duvet.

Things seem to move in a quick blur from then on, yet everything still happens so slowly and tentatively. They take time removing layers of clothing. Lucas loses himself in exploring every inch of Eliott’s body when he manages to switch their positions and get Eliott underneath him, itching to discover new and glorious details.

Lucas loves how Eliott becomes so responsive to his every move, falling apart beneath him. It causes his blood to rush, seeping warmth into his bones.

He finds his way down Eliott’s slender body, stopping once he gets to his boxers and looking up at him through his eyelashes, allowing them to flutter for effect. The moan it draws out of Eliott is what encourages Lucas to keep going despite his slight nerves.  He hasn’t done this before, but it’s the one thing that hasn’t stopped racing through his mind since Eliott had done as such to him. 

So desperately Lucas wants to feel Eliott. To taste him.

And so Lucas does. It’s fucking exhilarating, the feeling of Eliott coming undone beneath him, knowing he had done that. That Lucas was the one who had that effect on Eliott. He feels intoxicated with the knowledge.

When he collapses beside Eliott, both of them breathless and hazy, Lucas feels content. His body feels lighter, like a snip to the string holding him in place would have him floating up into the sky so easily, airy and bright with happiness. 

“Fuck. You’re good,” Eliott rasps out after a few moments, head lolling to the side to glance at Lucas next to him. It makes the heat that was already storming Lucas’ skin burn brighter.

Lucas is too spent to form any kind of coherent response, so instead he leans forward, running a gentle hand through Eliott’s hair and kissing him sweetly. It’s soft, intimate. They break away with an innocent brushing together of their noses, Lucas smiling fondly at the giggle Eliott lets out.

Lucas feels strangely emotional with how crystal clear Eliott’s eyes look as he smiles, they radiate such a vivid brightness Lucas thinks if he tried hard enough he would probably be able to see his own reflection in them. Or the stars, definitely stars.

It’s so overwhelming all Lucas can do is pull the giggling boy into his chest, loving how he fits there with so much ease. Eliott pants warm chuckles against Lucas’ bare chest, causing his heart to flutter uncontrollably. It’s definitively stunning, breathtakingly gorgeous.  Lucas voices the thoughts, sincerity unwavering, a whispered confession intertwining them infinitely and causing Eliott to beam even more radiantly.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh.”

The moment is beautiful, everything about it is undeniably perfect. How just the right amount of light is shining in through the window and onto Eliott’s face, creating majestic shadows. How their sweaty limbs are tangled together between the linen soft sheets, how Eliott is looking at him like he’s the only person in the world, like he’s the only thing that matters.

But they’re Lucas and Eliott, and being mature serious adults is definitely not their forte. So when Eliott breaks the silence, Lucas expects nothing less.

”Do you think I contradicted myself a bit by letting you give me a blowjob before taking you out on a date?” It causes them both to burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“You’re an idiot.” It’s nothing short of fond, Lucas can feel his eyes glistening as he beams at Eliott. It’s perfect, it’s  _them_.

Lucas wouldn’t change a damn thing about it.

**...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, planning this chapter: so i’ll include a few different days and plot points, get things moving along a bit 
> 
> me, now realising i’ve just wrote an entire chapter of only lucas and eliott in the timeframe of one morning: seems about right
> 
> quote is by marceline desbordes-valmore.
> 
> (leave a comment if u like, i love hearing from u <33)


	9. votre souhait est devenu réalité

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is v long, i don’t know what came over me. but it’s what we’ve all been waiting for so i hope you enjoy :)

_« ses regards laissaient une traîne d'étoiles dans les soirs tremblants. dans ses yeux nageaient les sirènes. et nos baisers mordus sanglants faisaient pleurer nos fées marraines »_

_…_

**Tuesday 14:37**

Lucas has unlocked his phone eight times in the past four minutes, scrolling back and forth between the apps on his home screen. He’s not even searching for anything in particular, he has just been hoping that if he stares long enough something relatively interesting will pop up. Spoiler alert, it wasn’t working.

He sighs dramatically, letting his head fall back against the dusty brick wall behind him in the school yard and gazing vertically towards the sky. He’s waiting for his friends to finish class, and time seemed to be moving slower by the second. He’s just so damn _bored._

Things between Lucas and the guys are unsettled. Sure, it had been just over a week since Basile’s birthday incident and they had told him there was no hard feelings, but Lucas can tell things still aren’t right.

He notices it in the way they tiptoe around him, how Basile doesn’t address him as often during conversations, how Arthur doesn’t tease him anymore, and how Yann watches him helplessly when he thinks Lucas doesn’t notice.

Lucas only really has himself to blame for that though. He feels like his mind is just going in constant circles; _tell them, but you can’t, you should, what if I don’t want to._ It’s exhausting and dizzying, and he has a constant irking headache. He wants nothing more than for it to just be over with. But that would mean telling them, and his idiotic brain won’t let him.

On the brighter side however, things with Eliott have been good, amazing, in fact. Being with Eliott brought out a side to Lucas he didn’t even know existed. Their days spent together are almost the only times Lucas is able put his overactive brain on standby and just live in the moment, allowing himself to forget every worry. It’s the one thing keeping him sane right now.

Coincidentally, he’s wearing Eliott’s hoodie currently, because frankly he’s fucking pathetic. It’s one of three he has accumulated over the past while. And Lucas _is_ going to return them, honestly. But Eliott hasn’t actually asked for them back yet, so what is Lucas supposed to do?

This one still carries Eliott’s faint scent, unlike the others which had faded after Lucas had slept in them one too many nights. Lucas leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and bringing the sleeve ends to his face. The vague smell of cigarettes and cologne diffuses his senses. Maybe there’s a hint of coffee, also, it’s something he can’t quite pinpoint. It’s fucking good nonetheless, and it’s Eliott. It makes Lucas crave his presence so gravely.

“‘Sup Lallemant!” Arthur’s greeting causes Lucas to jump abruptly from his daze, he hadn’t even noticed him approaching. Maybe it’s for the best, his thoughts were beginning to edge on borderline creepy.

“Hey dude,” Lucas acknowledges him, shuffling over on the bench to make room.

“How’s it going?” Arthur plops down next to him, running a hand through his sand tinted hair to get it off his face.

“Yeah, good. Fine. You?”

“You don’t seem fine. Lately, I mean.” And fuck okay, so he’s cutting straight to the point then.

Lucas shakes his head, huffing out a sigh. He knows Arthur has a blunt side to his personality, he’s not the type to sugar-coat things. But he’s never once tried to pry into the parts of Lucas’ life he so desperately did his best to not bring up. It’s like an unspoken rule within their group; don’t ask Lucas about his family, or anything remotely personal for that matter.

Arthur uses Lucas’ silence to continue speaking, “I’m not asking you to pour your heart out to me over a bottle of red wine or anything. But everyone can see you haven’t been yourself recently, it’s really worrying Yann. He tries to put on a front but you know what he’s like. The dude would take a bullet for you, you do know that right?”

“I know,” Lucas whispers, looking down at his fiddling hands, not being able to meet Arthur’s eyes. He despises confrontation.

Lucas sees him shaking his head from the corner of his eye, “But I don’t think you do.” It causes him to look up and furrow his brows in question. Arthur leans closer, elbows resting on his knees.

“I don’t think you understand how much he cares about you. Heck how much we all care about you, otherwise you wouldn’t be shutting us out like this. And I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is surely it can’t be _that_ bad, right? You’ve not done something really terrible have you?”

Lucas can feel his heart pumping rapidly, it’s the first time someone has outright questioned him about the situation like this. And Arthur sounds so insistent, so sure of his words. It’s scary, Lucas wants to run and hide as far away from it as possible.

“I’ve not done anything terrible, no,” Lucas answers.

Arthur shakes his head again, dumbfounded, “So what’s the holdup then? You know you can trust us.”

The words irritate Lucas in a way, mainly because Arthur is right, but he also doesn’t  _understand_. Arthur couldn’t possibly understand what it feels like to be continuously at war with your own brain. When the terrified irrational side constantly ends up winning every battle, crushing the part of him that wants to just be himself, _be happy_.

Like when marathon runners hit a brick wall, they’ve come so far, been through all the training, done the hard parts, but then suddenly it’s like a force slaps you right in the face. _You can’t do it._ And you want to run, keep moving, but your legs just physically won’t move no matter how hard you try. You’re completely frozen.

And no, Lucas isn’t being dramatic.

“I’m just trying to figure shit out right now,” he settles with, trying his best not to sound annoyed. It’s not Arthur’s fault that Lucas can’t open up.

Arthur lets out a frustrated breath, “But the thing is, you don’t have to do that alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Lucas whispers almost instantly, because he isn’t alone, he has Eliott, and Mika, and his mother, Imane and Alexia too. But mostly Eliott.

Eliott who had vowed to stick by him through this for as long as it took. Eliott, fucking wonderful, adorable Eliott who Lucas probably doesn’t deserve but yet somehow has nested himself into Lucas’ heart, refusing to move. Not that Lucas would let him anyway. He has him. They have each other.

_We have all the time in the world._

It was a promise almost. Eliott wasn’t going to rush Lucas into something he wasn’t mentally ready to do, and Lucas feels eternally thankful.

Arthur watches him curiously, lips parting ever so slightly as if he’s about to speak. But the boisterous howling of Basile and Yann galloping up to them like complete idiots cuts him off hastily, both of their heads snapping up from their conversation. Lucas hadn’t realised how intense the atmosphere had become around them until now.

“You two look like you’ve just seen a ghost!” Basile laughs ridiculously, “What were you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Arthur retorts immediately, Lucas inwardly sighs in relief.

He makes eye contact with Yann momentarily, who watches him intently with a look Lucas can’t describe. He has to look away, because he _can’t._ He feels so invaded, that’s what all these intimate emotion-centred conversations are doing to him. He hates the feeling of people digging into his thoughts, knowing his vulnerable side. And there’s been so much of that the past few weeks it’s overwhelming. Lucas wants to scream with how muddled it’s making him feel.

“Well are we going or what?” Lucas announces, standing from the bench and swinging his backpack over his shoulder, wanting to steer the conversation away from himself entirely. Because he just needs to be able to _breathe_.

“Yeah,” Yann mumbles, “Let’s go.”

**…**

 

**Friday 11:44**

“Is there anyone sitting here?” A muffled voice interrupts the voice of Joe Strummer thumping through his earphones.

Lucas glances up, removing one headphone to see Chloé gazing down at him expectantly, pointing to the free seat next to him at the library desk. He freezes up for a second, he hasn’t seen her in weeks, and he recalls the last interaction with her being pretty cold - if the daggers she was throwing him with her eyes were anything to go by.

“Uh, no,” he manages to fumble out once his brain kicks back into place.

“Cool.” She smiles, placing her bag onto the table and plopping down next to him.

Lucas feels awkward. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, whether to keep working on his essay, or to turn off his music. Did Chloé want to chat? The library is basically empty so Lucas doesn’t know what other reason she would choose the seat right next to him out of all the others for.

Thankfully, she makes the decision for him, as she turns in her chair. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Lucas removes his other earphone, letting the tangle of wires fall to the table, giving her his full attention.

“Okay,” she takes a breath. It’s a little dramatic, like she was preparing herself for a difficult conversation. It only makes him feel slightly nervous. “Do you actually like me? Because your friends told me you did, but I’m getting a complete different vibe from you and I don’t want to make a fool of myself if there’s nothing there.”

Her words are immensely straightforward, however Lucas isn’t even shocked because he’s experienced her eagerness before, many times. It unsettles him. Also how on earth does he respond to that?

“Uh.” He racks his brain for the right words. She interrupts him before he can continue, “Just be honest, I can take it.”

Fuck it then.

“I don’t like you that way, no. I’m sorry. It’s my fault they approached you, I shouldn’t have let them do that when I knew how I really felt. It was stupid.”

Chloé purses her lips, she looks slightly disappointed, but she masks it well, “I see.”

Lucas shakes his head, “It’s nothing to do with you, honestly. You’re great, I just—“ He pauses, not really knowing where he was going with his little speech. “Just there’s someone else,” he mumbles instead, it’s not a lie at least.

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say, because Chloé visibly retracts, appearing even more hurt. It makes Lucas feel like an asshole, but he’s not good with words anyway, _everyone already knows this_. He really doesn’t know why he had said it, he could have said literally anything else - like he was too busy for a relationship right now, or that he was in the middle of getting over a bad breakup. _Something_ that wouldn’t hurt the poor girl’s feelings. Fuck.

He keeps speaking in attempt to salvage the situation at least a little, “I just don’t want to lead to you on, is all. You deserve better than that.”

She nods, swallowing, “No, no, I get it. It’s fine, you can’t help who you have feelings for I guess.”

“Yeah,” Lucas whispers, because he knows. _He_ _fucking knows_.

“Well, thanks for telling me,” she says. It’s bordering on awkward, and Lucas can still sense her unease. He doesn’t know how to respond, but he doesn’t have to, “I should go.”

“Okay,” He watches as she stands, not looking him in the eye, “See you.”

She smiles woefully, “See you.” And then she’s gone, long brown locks swishing out through the library exit behind her.

Lucas swears under his breath, he feels like a dick, but what else was he supposed to do? It would be better in the long run for everyone if he just puts a complete stop to it before things got even more complicated and messy.

He’s also conscious of the fact he had just told Chloé that he liked someone else, he really hopes she has the sense to not go around spreading it. That’s all Lucas would need, his friends questioning who the ‘ _mystery girl’_ is.

Suddenly, Lucas’ phone buzzes on the table, the unexpected sound of it causing him to jump in surprise. It buzzes again a second later. And then again. Lucas picks it up, smiling uncontrollably when he reads the messages.

**Eliott 11:58**

_You look fucking cute in my hoodie_

_Scratch that you always look cute_

_You look cute right now_

_Do you always smile like that when you read my texts? ;)_

He rolls his eyes, looking up and scanning the library, where the fuck?

**Lucas 11:58**

_Are you stalking me?_

**Eliott 11:59**

_It’s a public library_

**Lucas 11:59**

_It’s a school library_

**Eliott 11:59**

_Whatever… Still cute_

**Lucas 11:59**

_Where are you? :(_

Lucas sees Eliott’s head poke out from behind a shelf of books and he rolls his eyes again at the ridiculous grin plastered across the boy’s face. Eliott stumbles his way over and drops into the seat adjacent to him.

“You’re so stupid,” Lucas mumbles, looking down at his books to try and hide his smile.

Eliott chuckles softly, “You’re not glad to see me?”

Lucas is, foolishly so. Eliott had managed to brighten his mood instantly as per usual, completely erasing all thoughts of his conversation with Chloé.

He only shrugs, smile involuntarily taking over as he flicks through the pages of his textbook, “Maybe.”

Eliott seems satisfied, humming happily to himself and shuffling his chair closer. Lucas is glad the library is next to empty, and they are mostly concealed by the surrounding shelves. 

“I came to ask you something.” 

Lucas looks up at him, eyebrows raising eagerly, “Oh yeah?”  

“Mhm,” Eliott mumbles, smiling fondly, his eyes are so bright it makes Lucas feel a little speechless.

”Shoot.” 

Eliott’s hand moves to scratch the back of his neck, he seems somewhat nervous. He nibbles at his bottom lip as his eyes advert Lucas’ gaze, dancing timorously across the library behind his head.

“What?” Lucas giggles, knocking his head back to catch Eliott’s eye when he makes no attempt to voice his question. 

“Give me a second! I’m a little nervous over here!” And it’s so unbelievably adorable Lucas feels his heart skip a beat or two. 

“Baby, you don’t have to be nervous around me,” Lucas shakes his head. He’s only teasing, but he sees the way it makes Eliott blush bashfully. He’ll note that down for later.

“I know that,” Eliott sighs admittedly, folding his arms on the table in defeat and resting his chin against them. He watches Lucas through his eyelashes. “I’m just not very good at this.” It comes out slightly muffled since his mouth was shoved into his sleeves.

Lucas reaches a hand over to lightly scratch the nape of Eliott’s neck, fingers brushing the soft strands of hair there, and he lets out what could only be described as a fucking _purr._ Closing his eyes and smiling peacefully. Lucas brings him back to reality, reminding him of the task at hand and prompting him to continue, “Words, baby.”

Eliott snaps his eyes open and groans, “Stop that. I really wanna kiss you right now.”

It makes Lucas chuckle breathily, he moves his hand to the top of Eliott’s head to ruffle his hair in one quick motion. It causes the unruly strands to completely defy all laws of gravity as they stick out in every direction. Eliott grumbles stubbornly, lifting his head to flatten the mess. Despite his efforts he wasn’t appearing annoyed at all, Lucas can see him trying to fight a smile.

“Nuh-uh,” Lucas tuts, “No kisses.”

Eliott’s pout represents that of a child who had just been told they weren’t allowed sweets before bed. Again, fucking adorable. And they’re only messing about, but Lucas can’t help the small droplets of guilt that begin to leak into his system.

 _If he was out Eliott would be able to kiss him anywhere without having to hold back._ _He wouldn’t have to tell Lucas to stop. He wouldn’t need to second guess himself._

Lucas shoves the thought to the back of his mind, he wasn’t going to think about that right now. Instead he puckers his lips to mimic kissing the air, aiming it towards Eliott to act out blowing him a kiss. It cause Eliott to giggle finally, all signs of apprehension leaving him instantly.

“So…?”

“Right.” Eliott sits up straight, an edge of determination skimming his words, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to go on a date with me.”

It’s slightly rushed, the words tumbling from his mouth in almost one entire breath. But Lucas hears every word, each syllable engraving into his mind. The sentence replays itself over and over, echoing in his brain. It wasn’t unexpected, Eliott had already told him he was planning on asking him out, but it doesn’t make his heart flutter with any less giddy anticipation.

Lucas watches Eliott nervously lick his lips, eyes naked and expecting. The moment is unending, or Lucas doesn’t want it to end; the way Eliott was looking at him so earnestly, heart laid bare on the table. Little tingles of fondness and warmth tickle Lucas’ skin as he feels himself smiling nonsensically.

“Of course I’ll go on a date with you,” he says, it comes out quiet, the words soft in their unacquainted state. It’s the first time Lucas has ever been asked out on a date. He doesn’t think meeting some girl he can’t remember the name of behind the gym in elementary school counts all that much.

The smile Eliott gives him is glowing, his features beaming with the purest of expressions. Things seem so simple in that moment, with Eliott grinning at him and Lucas mirroring it straight back. He’s almost able to forget the warped mess that has been spiralling in his brain for weeks, months now, day in and day out.

It’s beautiful. Eliott is beautiful.

“So are you doing anything tonight?” Eliott’s fingers tangle in the earphones sprawled on the table, but his eyes are locked on Lucas’, unfaltering.

Lucas shakes his head, smile so wide it hurts, “I’m free tonight.”

“Good,” Eliott’s voice is still prominently quiet in the stillness of the library, “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Perfect. Where are you taking me?”

Eliott tuts teasingly, shaking his finger to Lucas’ face. “Ah ah! Don’t start that. It’s a surprise.” Lucas bats his finger out of the way, furrowing his eyebrows in annoyance.

“Oh c’mon!” He whines.

“Nope.”

Lucas glares at Eliott, before grinning slyly, “It’s because you don’t know yet, isn’t it?”

Eliott looks immensely offended at the mere suggestion, “Watch your mouth Lallemant, I’ve been planning this all week. It’s going to blow your mind.”

Lucas just gives him a mischievous look of disbelief, loving how riled up Eliott gets.“You’re a dumbass.”

“A cute dumbass,” Lucas challenges.

“Eh,” Eliott ponders teasingly, shifting his head from side-to-side in contemplation. Lucas tears a small piece of paper from his book and flicks it at Eliott’s face, and Eliott gasps in outrage.

“You said it not me.”

Eliott smiles then, dropping the fake act of exasperation and tilting his head to the side as he studies Lucas intently. Lucas is enamoured by how violently bright Eliott’s eyes are, how they glisten so clearly that they almost seem to sparkle; like how the sun would reflect majestically against the deep blue waves of the sea.

Eliott’s eyes are the sea, Lucas is the sun warming them entirely from within.

“Of course you’re cute.” He sounds so completely and utterly serious it shuts Lucas right up, grasping all the air from his lungs and leaving him speechless. He smiles back sheepishly, allowing Eliott to win this one.

Eliott checks his phone, gushing out a sigh, “Fuck. I have class now. I should go.”

Lucas feels exceptionally disappointed, and he doesn’t even try to hide it as he pouts, “Okay.”

“Hey,” Eliott mumbles, “I’ll see you later, okay?” Lucas nods, it was a promise. He would see Eliott again in a few hours. He’s just being dramatic.

Eliott goes to leave, but Lucas suddenly grabs onto the excess material of his jacket sleeve to keep him in place. Eliott looks at him in question as Lucas’ eyes flicker quickly across every inch of the library. They’re still completely hidden, the only one person in sight being a girl who has her back facing them a few desks away.

So Lucas says fuck it, and pulls Eliott closer, pressing their lips together.

It’s soft, merely just a brush of lips, but it sends shocks of electricity throughout every bone in Lucas’ body, igniting his senses with pure bliss. He allows himself to rest their foreheads together momentarily, breathing Eliott’s warmth. The moment is delicate and intimate, discovering and new.

The gesture was risky, and probably stupid. But the gorgeous smile Eliott gives him as they pull away makes it every bit worth it.

_So fucking worth it._

**…**

 

**Friday 18:42**

Lucas runs a hand through his hair, frowning at himself in the mirror as it sticks out wildly, doing the complete opposite of what he wanted it to do. He desperately needs a haircut.

He huffs in agitation, Eliott would be here in approximately fifteen minutes— he had texted Lucas as such— and Lucas is nowhere near ready. He’s a disaster to say the least.

It’s not that he feels like he needs to impress Eliott, _well he does,_ but he just wants to look nice. And he has no idea what to wear since Eliott had refused to tell him what he had planned for their date. He prays it isn’t something fancy, because Lucas doesn’t own a fucking suit, or a pair of shoes that aren’t scruffy trainers.

“What are you dolling yourself up for?”

Lucas spins around from his position in front of the mirror, hands still tugging helplessly at the collar of his denim shirt in hopes of it sitting in a more attractive position. Mika is leaning against his doorframe with raised eyebrows and his arms folded expectantly, a small smile twitching at his lips.

“Date,” Lucas half mumbles as he turns back to the mirror to fuss over his hair again. He hears Mika gasp feverishly, he then sees his reflection appear behind him as he moves to place a hand on either one of Lucas’ shoulders.

“My Lulu! Oh that’s wonderful! How exciting!” He gushes frantically, a wicked grin smacked across his face.

Lucas just puffs out a heavy breath, “You don’t think it’s too much?” He asks while holding out his arms to study the sleeves covering them, “The shirt.”

Mika twirls him around so that they’re now facing each other, “Of course not.” He undoes the buttons at the ends of the sleeves, then rolls up the cuffs until they fall just below his elbows. “There,” he amends, seemingly satisfied with the alteration, “Much better.”

“Thanks,” Lucas faces the mirror again, tilting his head. He decides that he likes how it gives the smartness of the shirt a more casual vibe, exposing the tan skin of his forearms. It looks good.

“So…” Mika draws out, “Who’s the lucky devil then? Getting to take my precious Lulu out on a date?”

It’s strange, how Lucas doesn’t feel any form of unease or panic at the thought of telling Mika about Eliott coming to take him out. It’s new, and it’s almost empowering how his first response isn’t to fling himself at the nearest moving bus to avoid the conversation. He thinks Mika is also slightly thrown off guard when Lucas responds.

“His name is Eliott, he’s very sweet, please don’t scare him off when he arrives.”

Mika looks simultaneously over the moon and offended. “Eliott,” he smiles, dramatically punctuating the syllables as they fall from his mouth.

“Yeah,” Lucas breathes, smiling back faintly.

“He sounds hot.”

Lucas glares at Mika’s reflection, “You don’t even know what he looks like.”

“But you’re not denying it,” Mika taunts light-heartedly. Lucas bites his lip to suppress the smile threatening his features.

It feels easy, to talk about this with Mika. Maybe because Lucas knows that he gets it, he understands what Lucas has been through and Lucas _knows_ he doesn’t have a judgemental bone in his body. He may tease Lucas relentlessly, but it’s always entirely out of love. Something about it gives Lucas some piece of mind, it’s greatly comforting - knowing he can  always go to Mika for logical advice.

The sudden drone of their flat buzzer being pressed causes Lucas to swear in frenzy. It’s definitely Eliott, he’s early. It definitely hasn’t been fifteen minutes and Lucas wasn’t fucking ready - he hasn’t even brushed his teeth yet.

Mika must sense his panic, as he places another reassuring hand to Lucas’ shoulder, “Do you want me to get it while you finish up?”

“Please,” Lucas sighs in relief. Mika looks pleasantly chuffed, and Lucas has to stop him before he leaves, warning intertwining his tone, “Don’t be weird, I’ll be two minutes.”

Mika looks disgruntled as he places a hand to his chest in mock offense, “Me? Weird? Nonsense! I’ll be the most welcoming host.”

Lucas shakes his head, glaring sternly, “Two minutes.”

When Lucas finishes getting ready two minutes later, he enters the living room to find Eliott positioned next to Mika on the sofa, the both of them laughing ardently about something.

“Hi,” Lucas announces his presence, he smiles as Eliott turns his head to beam at him, his own smile growing wider when he spots Lucas lingering in the doorway.

“Hey,” Eliott breathes softly, eyes raking over Lucas’ frame, “You look amazing.” It causes Lucas to look down to mask the raging blush tinting his cheeks, very aware that Mika was still present.

Eliott stands and walks over to him, he feels hands cup his face to lift it up, before he plants a chaste peck to Lucas’ lips. Lucas gets lost in his eyes briefly, because he is only human after all, and Eliott looks stunning in his all black jeans and t-shirt, his hair appearing softer than usual.

“Shall we go?” Lucas asks, neck craned to meet Eliott’s taller gaze.

“Yeah,” Eliott whispers privately, his thumbs tracing Lucas’ cheeks as he holds his face. He then turns back around to face Mika, “It was really nice to meet you, Mika.”

Mika looks overjoyed, grinning ecstatically, “You too, Eliott! You guys have fun, and make sure you take care of my kitten.” He points a warning finger at them, but it’s teasing. A weak attempt at a stern older brother warning, Lucas thinks, because quite honestly, while Mika may look a little terrifying, really he’s harmless.

Despite this, Eliott still nods reassuringly, wrapping an arm around Lucas’ shoulders and smiling down at him tenderly, “Of course I will.”

It causes Lucas’ regular butterflies to squirm in his stomach, and Mika to let out an excited squeal, “Ah! My God! You’re so cute together!”

So there goes all hope of not being weird completely thrown out of the window, then. But Eliott doesn’t seem to mind whatsoever, in fact it only makes him gleam brighter. “I know,” he says simply. Lucas blushes, they are both _definitely_ out to get him.

Enough is enough, Lucas decides, so he yanks Eliott’s arm towards the door, hearing his laugher lacing with Mika’s behind him, “We’re leaving.” 

**…**

 

**Friday 19:32**

“Eliott I’m serious, if I fall you’re fucking dead,” Lucas grumbles as he clings tightly onto Eliott’s wrists.

Eliott has his hands placed over Lucas’ eyes. Lucas doesn’t know why he insists on doing so, because he already has a blindfold restricting his sight, but: “It’s just in case, Lucas. I can’t have you secretly taking any peeks.” If Lucas didn’t know any better he would think Eliott was about to lead him into a death trap with how dubious he was acting.

“I won’t let you fall, just trust me.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, which ends up being absolutely useless due to the layers covering them anyway.

They had been walking for quite some time and Lucas was growing increasingly more impatient. The situation is ridiculous, but Lucas can’t help the fondness that reels through him at Eliott’s excitement. He giggles breathily into Lucas’ ear while Lucas makes sarcastic commentary about how absurd being blindfolded is: “I’m going to see what it is eventually, I don’t know why you have to blindfold me for the whole journey,” or, “People are going to think you’re trying to kidnap me,” and, “My nose is itchy, can you itch it?”

Eliott chuckles at the last one, “I haven’t tied your hands, itch it yourself!” But he does it regardless, because Lucas has him whipped.

Despite his protests, Lucas quite enjoys the feeling of Eliott pressed up against him as they walk along the dusky streets of Paris. It’s chilly out, the cold nipping at Lucas’ skin, but Eliott always radiates an abnormal degree of heat anyways. Like Lucas’ own personal heater, it’s eminently pleasant.

The sudden gust of warm air and the sound of what Lucas identifies as automatic doors sliding open indicates that they had now entered a building. Lucas prides himself in his ability to detect the environment change, being without sight for a whole thirty minutes has turned him into some kind of Spiderman-like genius.

“’Sup Eliott!” Lucas registers an unfamiliar male voice sounding from somewhere to his left.

“Hey Clyde! Is it okay for us to go on through?” Eliott speaks, Lucas feels a little confused. Who on earth is Clyde? He’d be more freaked out if he didn’t already trust Eliott with every bone in his body.

The man, Clyde, tells them to go ahead, “It’s all set up for you.”

“Thanks.” He can feel Eliott smiling behind him like a sixth sense as he guides Lucas through another set of doors and down a long corridor.

 _Finally_ , after what feels like hours of excruciating waiting and walking and not being able to see Eliott’s beautiful face, they come to an abrupt halt.

“Can I look now?” Lucas asks, his fingers still clasped around Eliott’s wrists. He feels the airy giggle Eliott lets out ghost across his cheek from how close they’re standing.

“Yeah,” Eliott breathes.

When Eliott’s hands remove the blindfold, Lucas catches them in his own instantly, lacing their fingers together as the blindfold falls to the floor. He blinks a few times, his eyes adjusting to the sudden exposure, but he doesn’t look around. Instead his eyes automatically search for Eliott, who is beaming at him with the most compelling luminosity. His eyes glisten, catching the reflection of something above them.

It doesn’t take long for Lucas to regain focus, since the room is fairly dim, but once he does he allows his eyes to properly scan the room. The space is large and theatre-like, littered with reclining chairs, it’s also completely empty of other people.

Lucas looks up, and he gasps in awe at the sight above him. Millions of polar-white twinkling specs scattered across the moon-dusted sky, the culprit of the glittery heaven that had been lacing within Eliott’s irises. It’s breathtaking.

“Are we in a freaking planetarium?” He voices in astonishment, looking back to Eliott who he finds grinning outrageously, triumphantly nodding in confirmation.

“How did…” Lucas starts but gets distracted by how fucking _happy_ Eliott looks, Lucas is sure he looks just as exhilarated himself if the dull ache in his cheeks is anything to go by. He shakes his head in incredulity, “Are we the only ones here?” He asks instead.

“Yep. Just for us,” Eliott smiles.

Lucas shakes his head in disbelief, “But how? Don’t tell me you paid for all this,” he warns. Lucas would feel immensely guilty if he knew Eliott had spent such a fortune on him, surely renting out an entire planetarium isn’t cheap.

Eliott snorts, “Don’t be silly. Clyde’s a family friend, I used to come here a lot to help him out as a kid. He’s just doing me a favour.” 

Lucas purses his lips, glancing around the room again, he’s still in a slight state of shock. “Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before,” he whispers earnestly, gaze fixing back to Eliott’s. 

“I find that very hard to believe.” Eliott moves closer, his hands reaching out to cup Lucas’ face. 

Lucas’ voice is even quieter this time, “Why? It’s true.”

He can’t read the look on Eliott’s face. It’s soft, but wondering, then there’s something else. Sadness? Lucas can’t exactly put his finger on it. His eyes are laced with something more intricate, with more intensity. 

“Because you’re so...” Eliott shakes his head, unable to fathom words. He doesn’t finish, instead he leans down to connect their lips in the most delicate of kisses, portraying every unspoken word through the trace of his tongue. 

When they separate Eliott smiles widely, his excitement returning as he climbs the few steps that lead to the seating area. He spreads his arms out wide, “Well are you coming?” 

Lucas giggles at his childlike enthusiasm, following and flopping into the seat next to him.

The seats are more like beds, or what Lucas describes as a dentist chair— which earns him a dissatisfied look from Eliott— but it gives them the perfect view of the shimmering constellations forming above them.

”It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Eliott says after a while. 

“Yeah,” Lucas replies. He doesn’t really know much about astronomy, or constellations and all that, and he tells Eliott as such.

Eliott looks over at him, smiling, “That’s good. It means I can teach you.” He seems pleasantly content with the thought of being able to tell Lucas about something he is clearly so avidly interested in.

“So the cool thing about this,” Eliott points to the domed screen above them, “Is that it can be set to simulate the sky at any point in time, from any point of latitude on Earth.”

”Mhm,” Lucas hums, taking it all in.

Eliott continues, his voice laced with something more significant this time, “So I had Clyde set it to replicate the sky on the night we first kissed.”

The words sit heavy in Lucas’ chest, they’re soft and quiet, but they’re also the loudest things Lucas has ever heard. His heart thuds one, two, three times, over and over, folding over every single letter and syllable as they fall so naturally from Eliott’s lips.

Lucas feels speechless, overwhelmed. The fact that Eliott has put so much thought into one night. Bringing Lucas straight back to one of the happiest evenings of his life, the night he completely and wholeheartedly let go, giving Eliott his entire heart to hold and nurture and love.

_To love._

“Tell me about them,” Lucas eventually says, his voice slightly shaky with emotion. Eliott does, captivatingly so. He tells Lucas about the various visible constellations that had patterned the sky that night, and the stars that interlaced within them to create a beautiful glistening blanket above their heads, shielding them from the world outside.

“That one right there,” Eliott points, Lucas’ gaze following his finger, “Is called Ursa Minor. It’s my favourite I think.”

Lucas spots the arrangement of milky speckles, noticing how they connect effortlessly in his head, “Why?” He wonders.

Eliott’s arm falls, clasping with this other on his stomach, Lucas wants to hold it. So he does. He reaches over and links their fingers together, letting them lay against his own chest - right where his heart rests.

It’s a stark contrast to that night. The sky above them may be exactly the same, but Lucas and Eliott aren’t. They’re closer, in so many ways. Lucas doesn’t feel the overbearing nerves at the thought of reaching over to feel Eliott’s skin, he doesn’t have to look away to resist the urge. He could just do it. And it makes Eliott breathe out a happy sigh of satisfaction.

“Because it contains the star Polaris,” Eliott responds, fascination lacing his words as he speaks. “It’s not the brightest star in the sky, I think it’s actually only the 50th,  but it’s easy to find, and once you do, you can see it shining throughout the northern sky every night.”

He lifts their joined hands towards the crystalline darkness puzzled with infinite diamonds, “Can you see it?” Lucas nods, he does, and it stands out a lot more than the others now that he’s focused on it.

Eliott goes on, “It’s famous for remaining almost completely still while the entire northern sky moves around it. I think that’s so cool, like it owns the galaxy. Years ago it was used by travelers, because finding Polaris means you know the direction of north. So when they got lost they would look to the sky, and it would guide them in the right direction.”

“Wow,” Lucas breathes, he’s lost for words. Hearing Eliott speak about something so passionately, with so much care and attentiveness makes the warmth radiating within Lucas travel outwards, tingling his skin blissfully.

“How do you know so much about astronomy?” Lucas asks, glancing sideways to look at Eliott. He’s mesmerized by how Eliott’s eyes flicker intently across the twinkling curtain above them, completely engrossed in their ethereality.

Lucas is engrossed in Eliott’s ethereality.

Eliott smiles, still gazing upwards, “I’ve been interested in it as long as I can remember, my parents started bringing me here when I was really young, I guess it started there.” He purses his lips, his thumb tracing soft circles along Lucas’ hand as it rests on his chest. “And I learned how beautiful space can be, it’s ginormous which is terrifying, but it means there’s always something new to see. It’s just so fascinating, how there’s an entire world of such beautiful things beyond us that we’ve never seen before. Its limitless, untouched almost, the answers of so many pending questions lie somewhere very far away that we get closer to day-by-day through astronomy. It’s magical.”

Lucas’ heart feels whole, the look on Eliott’s face transcends every innumerable star that litters the sky in all its iridescence. The beauty he emanates melts the cage built around Lucas’ heart as if it had been weaved together by the softest of wires, soft like caramel. The harsh ridges of his confinement dissolving until all he can feel is Eliott’s touch and words and gaze resting against his heart, forming their own distinctive place there.

The place in which Lucas will forever and wholeheartedly reserve for Eliott and Eliott only.

Lucas watches Eliott in complete and utter awe as he gazes up at the luminous flickers dancing and twirling above them in shapes that cast silver rays across Eliott’s pale skin, tugging at his lips and yielding a small smile.

_I’m so in love with you._

The thought doesn’t startle him, it brings a sense of solace buzzing throughout his body. It’s comforting, and he feels a million tiny traces of worry and doubt and tension leave him instantly, like a flood gushing, pouring from its seabed.

Lucas is in love with Eliott. He loves him unconditionally, with every bone in his body. He doesn’t say it though, he keeps the words that linger at the tip of his tongue and he stores them in his chest; close to his heart.

Instead he squeezes Eliott’s hand, urging his to look over. When Eliott does, Lucas feels his heart hammer unnaturally rapidly, he thinks Eliott can feel it too.

“I’m going to tell my friends about us.” It comes out certain, positive. Because Lucas feels the determination pushing at his skin, trying to swim its way through his throat. He knows what he needs to do, and keeping Eliott— beautiful, amazing, wonderful, Eliott— hidden away like some shameful secret is not it.

Lucas needs to shout it from the rooftops and write it in the stars how incredible Eliott is. He doesn’t want to hide it anymore, the feeling isn’t sudden, it doesn’t feel abrupt, it has been niggling at the back of Lucas’ head for weeks. He’s tired of things being so shitty with his friends.

He wants this so badly. More than anything. It’s still the most terrifying thing in the world, but he doesn’t want to hide anymore.

The sweet smile Eliott gives him only strengthens that feeling, “Yeah? You’re ready for that?” He questions lightly.

Lucas nods assuredly, “I want to be with you.” It comes out in a whisper, but it doesn’t take away from the heaviness of the words, how much he means them.

Eliott tugs at his hand, gesturing for Lucas to climb over the armrest separating them and climb into his space. Lucas slips in beside him so effortlessly, having to half lie on top of Eliott since the chair wasn’t very spacious anyway. But they make do, with Lucas resting his head on Eliott’s chest and Eliott running a soothing hand through Lucas’ hair.

The sky above them mimicking the night they first kissed had now become the sky Lucas fell in love under. Lucas thinks it will forever be his favourite sky, Eliott’s favourite star is now his favourite star. Because travelers may have used Polaris to find their destination, but Lucas had used it to find Eliott, and now that he had found him, Lucas wasn’t ever going to let himself lose him.

“How many Lucas’ and Eliott’s do you think are lying like this right now, in another universe, looking at the stars?” Eliott speaks after a moment of silence.

Lucas smiles, wrapping his arms around Eliott's waist and squeezing, loving how warm he was. “A lot,” he replies softly. _Every single one of them_ , he thinks. He feels the rumble of Eliott humming in agreement vibrate against his cheek from where it lay squished into his chest.

“Lucas,” he hears Eliott whisper suddenly, Lucas glances up at him in question. “Don’t move. You have an eyelash. Here.” He feels the soft trace of Eliott’s fingertip swipe under his eye, it’s a little ticklish. Eliott then holds his finger out for Lucas to see, sure enough there is the fine curl of Lucas’ eyelash perched there.

“You have to make a wish,” Eliott says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like it would be a crime not to. Lucas only rolls his eyes because he hasn’t done that since he was a kid.

“That shit doesn’t work.”

“Awh come on!” Eliott whines when Lucas doesn’t play along.

Lucas only gives in because Eliott is pouting at him with those fake sad eyes that Lucas can’t refuse because they melt him entirely. “Fine,” he mumbles stubbornly, “I wish that…” He trails off, contemplating on what to wish for. Lucas doesn't fucking know, he feels like he already has everything he could possibly need right here in this moment.

He smiles impishly then, the thought sparking like a light bulb, “I wish that Eliott Demaury will ask me to be his boyfriend soon.” He speaks to his eyelash as if it’s a real person, or a genie, and as if Eliott isn’t there— like a scene from a teen chick flick where the girl would wish for her high school crush to fall in love with her— before blowing and watching it float away.

And he’s only really fucking around, but Eliott doesn’t laugh. Lucas would have thought he had actually stopped breathing altogether if it wasn’t for the constant thud of his heart pulsing against Lucas’ cheek.

“It’s a good wish,” Eliott says after some time.

Lucas replies a little giddily, “Thanks.”

A few minutes pass where they both go back to gazing at the stars above them, Lucas tries to reestablish and remember the names of all the constellations Eliott had pointed out earlier. He smiles when the stars align in his head with ease as he imagines them in their respectable patterns. They burn bright against the dark satin layers of night sky, like tiny beacons of hope in a world of tragedy and heartache. It’s so surreal, how much solidarity it brings him, with the feeling of Eliott’s heartbeat and the sound of his even breaths filling his senses.

“Lucas,” Eliott breaks the silence again, Lucas hums in acknowledgement but he doesn’t look away from the sight above him. Eliott continues, “Now that we’ve had our first proper date, I wanted to ask if it’s okay to call you my boyfriend.”

The words cause Lucas to force his gaze away from the stars and back to Eliott, mainly to see if he was joking— he wasn’t, Lucas doesn’t know why that was his first reaction— but Eliott is completely serious. It’s fucking adorable.

Lucas feels giddy, happy, “Of course it’s okay.” It’s actually more than okay, it’s all Lucas has ever wanted.

“Good,” Eliott smiles, before using his arms to pull Lucas upwards until their faces are level, pressing their foreheads together and then joining their lips.

Kissing Eliott is maybe one of Lucas’ favourite things on earth, it’s all soft breaths, warm silky lips and gentle hands. Their bodies sink together, the stillness of the large room is quiet save for the panting of their breaths and sliding of their attentive lips.

Lucas feels goosebumps form at the nape of his neck and the small of his back and practically every inch of his body with every delicate brush of skin. He feels hypersensitive to Eliott’s touch, each movement causing him to whimper or let out heavy breaths. He’s hypnotized under the smoothness of Eliott’s beautiful lips and the moans that shudder between their mouths and through their laced tongues. Completely spellbound.

When they pull away with heavy pants, Lucas presses a quick peck to Eliott’s nose, making him giggle endearingly.

“See, it did work. Your wish came true.” Eliott speaks with a slightly hoarse voice, moving his head in up-down motions to brush their noses together.

Lucas chuckles lightly, he feels so calm it makes his head feel drowsy, airily happy.

“I guess it did.”

**…**

 

**Sunday 15:46**

 

**Le Gang**

**Lucas 15:46**

_What are you guys doing later?_

**Arthur 15:47**

_Definitely not that biology homework_

**Yann 15:47**

_Nada_

**Basile 15:48**

_Me neither_

**Lucas 15:51**

_Cool_

_The flat’s free if you wanna come over in a few_

_We can order pizza_

**Yann 15:52**

_Yeah sounds good_

**Basile 15:52**

_Yea YEAH_

**Arthur 15:52**

_Of course bro!!_

**Yann 15:53**

_What time?_

**Lucas 15:54**

_Sick_

_Like 7?_

**Arthur 15:54**

_Can we make it 6:30 I’ll be fucking starving by then_

**Basile 15:54**

_How about 6:30_

_Fuck we said that at the same time_

**Yann 15:54**

_Hahaha idiots_

**Lucas 15:55**

_Yeah 6:30 is chill_

**Arthur 15:55**

_Amazing bro thanks_

_See you then_

**Basile 15:56**

_WOO pumped for pizza_

**Lucas 15:56**

_Lmao_

_See u guys_

**...**

 

**Sunday 18:34**

Lucas plumps the hideous orange cushion resting on the armchair in the living room for the third time. He’s nervous, just itching for something to occupy his fidgeting hands with as he waits anxiously for his friends to arrive. 

The living room had been a mess beforehand, since Lucas had been left in the flat alone all day and spent most of it lounging on the sofa watching reruns of _Family Guy_. Fuck knows why. 

Hence, the room was a tip, and it smelt, so Lucas had to tidy, and the cushions weren’t sitting right, and he was stressed. 

But it wasn’t about the stupid cushions, really. It was the looming knowledge niggling at the back of his mind of what he was about to do. The reason he had invited them over in the first place.

To come out to them, tell them he was gay.

The word isn’t as scary to Lucas anymore, not like how it had been most of his life. It was once this weighted tension that he so actively tried to avoid, to suppress down so far it didn’t even exist within the same universe.

But now Lucas is learning to accept it, to live in it and fucking own it, because that’s who he is. And he hears when people say _‘my sexuality doesn’t define me’_ and he understands. But it’s something that has dominated Lucas’ thoughts for as long as he can remember, it’s such a massive part of him that he can’t _help_ but feel like it defines him in some way. It’s made him stronger, made him appreciate the people around him more, helped him feel closer to his mother, taught him how to love.

So yeah, today is the day Lucas says _fuck it_ and embraces it wholly, with every fiber in him.

A hurried burst of fists rattling against his front door causes Lucas to jump slightly, he hadn’t even noticed the rowdy stomps and laughter of his friends climbing the stairs of the building and arriving at his apartment. Trust them all to turn up at exactly the same time. Lucas just hopes his neighbours aren’t home to witness the ruckus.

He walks up to the door, allowing himself to take a steady breath, the air filling his lungs before releasing. This is it, no going back.

When he swings the door open, removing the barrier between them, it’s to find Arthur draped across Yann in a piggyback— although Yann’s grip on him was slipping and so they were more just hunched over each other in a fit of giggles— and Basile with three boxes of pizza stacked in his arms, the top one lying open and a half eaten slice gaping out of his mouth. Lucas counts the two active brain cells evident between the three of them, shaking his head at their ridiculousness.

“Helfo,” Basile muffles with a mouth full of pizza.

“Sorry bro, we couldn’t get him to wait.” Arthur slides down from Yann’s back and straightens his shirt, giving Basile a disapproving look.

“Hey! Who paid for it? Huh? That’s what I thought.” Basile defends, making them all chuckle.

Lucas lets them in, still vastly conscious of his neighbours. They all spread around the living room, Arthur and Basile on the floor while Yann and Lucas share the sofa.

Things are pretty chill for a while, they take turns playing games of Fifa, munching away at pizza slices and talking absentmindedly about useless shit. It’s nice, normal, like how things used to be between them.

“I’ve honestly tried everything, I don’t know what else I can do to get her to give me a chance,” Basile whines helplessly. He’s talking about Daphné again, because what else. Lucas has maybe almost missed it a little, but he wouldn’t be caught dead admitting as such.

“I’ve tried going for it full on, I’ve tried giving her space, maybe she’s just not into me.”

Lucas feels for him, “Maybe you need to make a statement. Like make it completely obvious.”

Yann hums in agreement, his eyes trained on the television screen as he speaks, “Yeah, like something really sentimental. She’ll love that shit.”

It seems to spark something inside Basile as he looks in deep thought, contemplating the idea, “Okay, yeah. I guess I’ll try that then.”

Arthur nudges him with his elbow, “Don’t give up yet bro.”

So fucking supportive, they are. Lucas just _hopes_.

Lucas watches as one of Arthur’s players goes for a goal but misses, Yann letting out a gleeful howl. He and Basile had taken a back seat for this one, with there only being two controllers, and with Lucas being absolutely useless at Fifa anyway.

He still hasn’t brought it up, the _thing_. It’s been irking the back of his mind all evening. He _is_ going to do it, but he just doesn’t know _how._ How do you slide something like that into a conversation casually? Like _‘that was a great goal, Yann. And hey by the way, I’m gay.’_ He just hasn’t had a good opportunity yet, that’s all.

But it was getting late, and if he doesn’t get a grip soon it’ll be too late. So he internally composes himself, taking a deep breath and he just fucking goes for it. To hell with a natural segue.

“Uhm, guys,” He says first, testing his voice to make sure the words don’t crack with nerves. His heart is beating rapidly, like a fucking base drum, “So you know how I’ve been acting kinda weird lately?”

Nobody looks away from the current game playing on the screen, all Lucas gets in return is a muddle of hums and grunts. He’s thankful, he doesn’t think he would be able to cope with several questioning eyes glaring at him as he does one of the hardest things he thinks he may ever do.

“Well… it’s been because of someone I’m seeing.”

“Chloé?” Yann and Basile both say in unison.

Arthur shakes his head, still gazing at the screen intently, dodging a tackle from one of Yann’s players, “No he ended the thing with Chloé.”

He says it so casually, like it was common knowledge. It causes them all to look at Arthur in confusion, who just shrugs easily, “What? Daphné told me.”

Basile huffs, “Oh she’ll talk to you but not me?” Arthur only rolls his eyes.

Yann pauses the game, looking over at Lucas who probably looks like a startled puppy, “Is that true?”

Lucas shakes his head, feeling greatly exposed under Yann’s stare, “There was never a thing between me and Chloé. I told her it wouldn’t work because I like someone else.”

Yann doesn’t say anything, but Basile and Arthur glance over to him now, _fucking great._  “Oh, who?” Basile questions.

Lucas can feel the sweat beading at the back of his neck and the palm of his hands, he can hear his own pulse thumping throughout his entire body as he shakes with nerves. He can’t speak, he opens his mouth to say something, anything, he doesn’t know what, but nothing comes out.

“Is it Imane?” Arthur asks when Lucas doesn’t respond.

“Daphné?” Basile tries.

It causes Lucas to huff out a laugh, “Neither.”

It’s Yann who speaks next, his eyes burning holes into Lucas’, “Well who then?”

Lucas looks away, instead focusing his gaze out of the window. He takes a sharp breath, butterflies exploding in his stomach, and not the good kind. Everything was riding on this moment, there’s a chance Lucas could end the night with three less friends. It’s a dramatic thought, but it’s what he has to prepare himself for. He can’t say he would take it well though, it would absolutely crush him, losing his three closest friends, losing Yann.

So when the words fall from his lips, painfully quiet and unsure he almost thinks they haven’t been heard, they sit prominently between the four of them, and a small part of Lucas wants to scoop them back up, shove them back into his mouth and never go back there again.

“It’s not a girl.”

He still hasn’t looked away from the window, terrified of the expressions he’ll find on their faces. But he lets the words settle, lets them melt into the air before he eventually allows his eyes to wander back to Yann.

And maybe thirty seconds have passed, or maybe it was less than one second, but he soon feels the grounding weight of Yann’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing firm but gently. He watches as Yann sends him a private reassuring smile, _it’s okay,_ he feels him say, _you’ve got this_ , his eyes yell.

It’s the most elusive of gestures, so small and arguably insignificant in any other situation, but right now it’s all Lucas needs to keep going. The assurance he had been aching for.

He hasn’t looked at Arthur or Basile yet, but he hears one of them speak, mind too heavy and jumbled to distinguish between the two, “Who is it?”

Lucas breaks the encouraging eye contact with Yann to peer at them, “Uh, Eliott. His name is Eliott, I don’t know if you know him, he only moved last month.”

Arthur nods knowingly, “Ah yes! I know, from the party meetings right?” He slaps a hand to Basile’s chest to get his confirmation, who nods complaisantly.

“Yeah,” Lucas breathes.

“So you’re gay then?” Basile asks, it’s not demanding, merely just wondering.

Lucas nods, biting his lip timorously, “Yeah.”

Basile grins easily then, “Cool.” It doesn’t shock Lucas as such, he just didn’t expect the conversation to go so… Normal? Because Arthur is smiling also, watching Lucas with what he can only describe as delight, “That’s sweet, Lu.”

“It’s okay?” Lucas asks timidly, he still doesn’t quite believe it.

Yann’s hand is still grounding him, and he feels another tight grip pinch his shoulder. “Shit, Lucas. Of course. It’s not even a question. We love you bro,” he says with strong sincerity lacing his tone.

The other two boys nod their heads enthusiastically, their eyes earnest and without a single trace of doubt or discomfort. Lucas almost thinks he might cry, he even feels the dampness forming around his eyes, but instead he just feels so fucking outrageously _happy_. He’s ecstatic, and it causes a wide smile to tug at his lips, matching the ones displayed by his friends.

“Love you guys too. Honestly.”

Yann slaps a hand between Lucas’ shoulder blades, “Sap.”

Lucas shoves him playfully, a giggle bubbling through him and tumbling from his lips. It’s perfect, and dumb, it’s the deepest talk he’s ever had with them, but it’s what causes the last weight to fall from Lucas’ shoulders. He couldn’t possibly feel any lighter.

He had wasted so much time, his heavy mind weighing a ton, pinning him down and stealing his freedom, his happiness. But this time Lucas had taken charge, he had fought past the barriers and given himself hope. He isn’t afraid anymore. He’s in control.

It feels like a new beginning. He has Eliott, his boyfriend, because Lucas could call him that now. _He has a fucking boyfriend_ , and his best friends hasn’t even batted an eyelid. They supported him no matter what. It’s all Lucas could ever ask for.

“Okay, now hit play I was almost winning,” Arthur instructs, the mood shifting back to its original lightheartedness so effortlessly. Lucas had just told them about the heavy burden that has been eating away at him for years, and things hadn’t changed one bit. Not in a way that causes his confession to become forgotten or overlooked, it’s still momentous, and it’s exactly how Lucas would have wanted it to go.

They hadn’t treated him any differently, or looked at him sympathetically. That’s the most important thing to him, he still has them. They still love him.

“Are you fucking serious? You were not!” Yann yells, appalled, resuming the game.

Lucas laughs along with them, and for the first time in years he feels completely and utterly free. It’s liberating. And he’s so fucking proud.

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhh :’) u all have no idea how much i would die for them (all of them) 
> 
> comment your thoughts plsplspls i LOVE talking with u all and hearing what u have to say!!!!!! quote was by guillaume apollinaire


	10. tu ne pourrais jamais me perdre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! hey! this is me trying to recover from lucas' pride post. i love them. anyways, pls proceed and enjoy :)

_« car, vois-tu, chaque jour je t’aime davantage, aujourd’hui plus qu’hier et bien moins que demain »_  

_…_

 

**Wednesday 06:17**

Lucas stumbles along the hallway of Eliott’s apartment with blurry vision, still consumed by a sleepy daze, since he had only woken up about thirty seconds ago. It’s  _early,_ and he is definitely running on no more than four hours of sleep.

He had slept over at Eliott’s last night, which was perhaps a foolish idea considering it was a school night. But he had been tossing and turning in his own bed until 2am unable to fall asleep, when Eliott had texted asking if he was still awake, that he couldn’t sleep either, and what was Lucas supposed to do?

So he had arrived at Eliott’s just after twenty past two in the morning, eyes burning with inexorable exhaustion, feeling warmth bubble in him at the sight of a sleepy, dishevelled haired Eliott standing adorably in front of him. And so less than ten minutes after collapsing into Eliott’s bed, being curled under Eliott’s soft embrace, his scent distinguishably calming within the sheets surrounding them, hands rubbing soothing circles along his back, Lucas was out like a light.

But he had woken to an empty bed, the first thing registering in his partially unconscious brain being the harsh absence of arms folding around him in a cocoon. Lucas hadn’t really pondered on it, he had just stood up instantly, taking a second to allow the dizziness of rising too quickly clear from his head, before making it his mission to find the other boy within the apartment and demand cuddles. Because it’s  _cold_ and Lucas misses his warmth already.

It doesn’t take long, as Lucas wanders into the living room to find the curtains blowing softly, indicating the door behind them was opened and causing a slight wind to chill the back of Lucas’ neck. He curses himself for not throwing on more than a hoodie and his boxers.

He grabs a blanket from the sofa, wrapping it over his shoulders and then peeks his head around the curtains. Sure enough Eliott is right there, sitting quietly on the small balcony, small enough to just allow a double seated sofa and coffee table.

Lucas first recognises the smell of smoke lingering in the air, a cigarette behind Eliott’s ear and another burning embers into the ashtray on the coffee table. Which is covered in ink and circles of coffee mug stains, clearly indicating how much time Eliott must spend out here.

Eliott doesn’t see Lucas at first, since he’s hunched over a sketchbook, tongue darting across his lips every so often and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His hand moves with so much delicacy yet with strong purpose as it acts as puppeteer to the worn charcoal pencil, his other hand reaching to scratch the side of his face and leaving a smudge of grey there. Lucas can’t really tell what he’s sketching just quite yet, as it is merely an outline and the majority of Eliott’s body is restricting his view.

Lucas notices how Eliott is only wearing a pair of sweatpants, his entire upper half exposed and covered in tiny goosebumps. It’s ridiculous because it’s the middle of winter yet Eliott was so consumed within his own little bubble he probably couldn’t even notice the harsh chill enveloping him.

Lucas could have stood like that forever, silently observing how Eliott looks so undeniably beautiful pouring his everything into one piece of art. But it’s bloody freezing, and Lucas would prefer it if his boyfriend _didn’t_ catch a cold, _thank you very much._

So he decides to make his presence known, clearing his throat softly and letting out a small, “Hey.”

Eliott’s head snaps up abruptly, a slight look of shock evident on his face at the sudden sound, but it melts into a warm smile almost instantly when he realises Lucas lingering behind him.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice raspy from his early morning smoke, and his eyes traced with visible tiredness.

“What are you doing up so early?” Lucas wonders as he moves further onto the balcony, taking a seat next to Eliott on the small sofa facing the view and curling his feet under himself to keep them warm.

Eliott lifts the cigarette that had been smouldering away in the ashtray and takes a long drag. He releases the cloud of smoke with his head angled away from Lucas, knowing the strength of the stuff causes him to scrunch his nose and hold his breath, especially so early in the morning.

Eliott had teased him lightly at first when he discovered Lucas’ intolerance, somewhat confused: “ _But don’t you smoke weed? We’ve definitely smoked weed together before.”_

To which Lucas had replied: “ _Well yeah, but weed is different. And I’m always drunk when I smoke weed._ ”

And Eliott had rolled his eyes jokingly, but ever since then, Lucas began to notice how cautious Eliott became when smoking around him - making a conscious effort to avoid blowing it near Lucas’ face. It was fucking cute, because really Lucas was just being a dramatic ass, yet Eliott still insisted on accommodating his antics despite the irrationality behind them. It’s a subtle reminder of how caring he is.

Lucas shuffles closer and wraps half of the blanket around Eliott’s shoulders, before winding his arms around his waist, “S’cold,” he murmurs in explanation. Not that Eliott really needs one as he gladly wraps his own arms around Lucas’ shoulders, holding him close.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Eliott eventually mumbles in response to Lucas’ question. He moves his sketchbook from his lap onto the coffee table so they can share the blanket properly and combine their body heat.

“Did you sleep at all?”

Eliott purses his lips slightly, before a sad smile tugs at his mouth and he shakes his head no. Lucas frowns, noticing the tired lines forming within the hallows of Eliott’s eyes.

“Do you have much on today? We could just skip and go back to bed,” Lucas suggests, loving how the idea sounds since he’s lacking in sleep also. But Eliott shakes his head again, running a stressed hand through his hair.

“I’d love to, fuck, but I can’t. I have a test.” He looks at Lucas, his eyes portraying how his mind is currently at war with itself. Sleep or school, school or sleep.

Lucas understands, it was the last week of school before the Christmas holidays and things have been pretty hectic. With so many deadlines and tests Lucas has barely had time to _think_. He hasn’t even had the time to introduce Eliott to his friends yet, which isn’t ideal, because ever since he came out to them it’s all they’ve been nagging him about. And Lucas wants to, _he does,_ but he’s just been so damn busy he hasn’t had the opportunity.

It’s also somewhat nerve-wracking, because in dramatised terms, this was basically Lucas’ two worlds colliding. He doesn’t want to force it, he wants it to happen naturally. And it sounds fucking dumb, he knows, but he just needs it to go perfectly.

He buries his nose into Eliott’s chest, feeling it slowly regain warmth against his soft skin. “That’s okay, it’s still early we can sleep for a while longer,” he decides, because it’s barely even 06:30am and Lucas usually doesn’t wake up until _at least_ 07:30am on a school morning.

He feels Eliott’s fingers comb through his hair, it causes Lucas’ eyes to flutter shut involuntarily with pleasure. He loves how caring and gentle Eliott is, his touches always feather soft yet electrifying at the same time. Lucas doesn’t think he could ever get bored of how Eliott makes him feel just with the brush of a fingertip. And the fact that it’s all for _him_ , that there was nobody else who would get to experience how it felt to have Eliott hold them and kiss them in this way. It makes it just as gratifying.

He maybe feels a little bad for the people who wouldn't get to experience that, because Eliott’s touch is truly alleviating, like the feeling of when that first droplet of water hits your tongue on a hot summers day, how the parched surface of your throat melts away as the cool liquid pours through your body and revitalises your senses.

“We can do that.” He feels the rumble of Eliott’s chest against his face as he speaks. Lucas then feels Eliott’s arms wrap firmly around him and lift him up, then he turns to fall back onto the sofa, Lucas falling onto his chest. It’s a squeeze, both of their legs dangling off the end, Lucas grumbles against Eliott’s skin, “Right here? It’s freezing.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” Eliott insists, wrapping the fallen blanket back around them, creating a shield from the sharp winter breeze.

Lucas wants to protest, he would much rather sleep inside, within the warmth of Eliott’s thick sheets, but Eliott hushes him, “We can watch the sunrise, look.”

He gestures for Lucas to turn his head towards the flares of amber and gold beginning to dance across the sky, preparing the world beneath for the day ahead.

“Mhm wow. Well aren't you romantic,” Lucas teases, turning his head back to look at Eliott. Because while the morning radiance is beautiful and all, it doesn’t even come close to being comparable to the beacon of sunshine Lucas finds twirling within Eliott’s eyes.

“Shhh. Sleep,” Eliott orders lightly, urging Lucas to rest his head again by pulling him down. Lucas obliges, snuggling up into Eliott’s neck, satisfied that he’s finally getting those cuddles he had been deprived of when he woke up earlier.

They lie like that for a while, Lucas can’t really fall back asleep now that he’s already been awake. Eliott seems to be the same, as Lucas can feel his uneven breaths and his hands still tracing patterns on Lucas’ back. But he doesn’t mind, it’s nice to just rest his eyes for a little longer, content with basking in Eliott’s warm embrace as the sun slowly grows alive above them.

“Lucas,” he hears Eliott whisper, testing to see if he’s still awake. Lucas only hums in acknowledgement, too comfortable to move his head again.

Eliott must take this as confirmation, as he continues speaking, “I’m really proud of you, you know?”

Lucas sighs, a faint blush spreading its way across his cheeks, “Stop saying that.” He giggles bashfully, the confession coming out of nowhere, but then again not really. It’s not the first time Eliott has told him as such the past few days. It had been the first thing he had said when Lucas called to tell him he had come out to his friends, he had also texted the words later that night, and they have fallen from his lips on countless occasions.

Lucas still can’t quite grasp them, or the frequency of them.

“But it’s true,” he says simply, “I’m so happy you came out and it went well. Your friends seem so great, I can’t wait to meet them properly.”

It causes Lucas to smile, he couldn’t wait either, “Same. I want to meet yours too, by the way.”

Eliott lets out a light chuckle, it’s filled with air and is somewhat dire, Lucas can sense something off with his words as he speaks, “Those guys probably don’t even know my surname let alone care who I date, so.” Lucas lifts his head to look at him, a little confused, Eliott purses his lips, “I can introduce you to my parents through,” he compromises.

“What do you mean by that? Are you talking about the guys you sit with at lunch?”

Eliott nods but doesn’t elaborate, so Lucas pushes further, “They aren’t nice to you?” He feels something wrong twist in his stomach at the thought of Eliott not having people around him that only show him the upmost of love and support in every situation.

“No, no, it’s not like that. They’re fine, I suppose,” He pauses, a look of slight apprehension clear in his features, “But we’re not that close, I mean… not like you are with your friends. I get it though, some random dude shows up from another school and starts sitting with you at lunch, they’re as nice as I would expect them to be.”

Lucas frowns at his words, but Eliott keeps talking, “See, all my old friends went off to university, we lost contact. So I guess I felt alone for a while, especially in their company. But it was okay in the end, because I had you.” He smiles, but his eyes still exude a slight sadness that he isn’t able to fully mask. “You’re one of the only people that made me feel welcome.”

Lucas feels a million shards of glass slice through his heart, something horrible snapping in his brain, a realisation that this entire time he has known Eliott, the boy has felt alone. And he says Lucas had made him feel welcome, but the fact is Lucas can’t let himself accept that, because he _hadn’t._ He had kept their relationship a secret, all for his own sake, because he was too afraid of people judging him. He was selfish.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

Eliott’s eyebrows furrow, his head shaking slightly in confusion, “What are you sorry for?”

Lucas looks away, feeling an immense degree of guilt, “How did I make you feel welcome when I couldn’t even tell my friends about us? When I made you have to hide what we had?”

Eliott’s fingers move to rest under Lucas’ chin, gently pulling his face back up to meet his gaze, “Don’t say that,” He says in almost a whisper, “I don’t think you understand how much you’ve been there for me, how much you’ve helped me.” There’s something lacing his tone that Lucas doesn’t quite understand, he feels like he’s missed something, like Eliott is thanking him for something he isn’t even fully aware of.

Lucas wants to question it, _what did I do?_ But Eliott keeps going, “And you told them in the end didn’t you? Don’t even try to belittle how important that was. I know how hard that was for you, and so I’m going to tell you how proud I am every chance I get. So get fucking used to it.”

His last words make Lucas chuckle, despite the feeling of guilt still circulating in his blood. He’s once again hit with how much he adores Eliott, a reminder of the overwhelming feeling of love he has for him.

“Well my friends are your friends,” Lucas says then, determination in his tone. He’s maybe getting slightly ahead of himself, because Eliott hasn’t even met them yet, but Lucas is  _so sure_ they would get along just fine.

It earns him a genuine smile from Eliott, which is intensified by the molten glow of the sun bouncing off the highest points of his features, blinding Lucas with his effortless beauty. He leans forward to place a kiss to Eliott’s cheek, it’s cute, sweet. But before he goes to move away Eliott whines, holding him in place and nudging his face with his nose. Lucas giggles, giving the boy what he wants and connecting their lips.

The kiss starts off innocent, their lips brushing together gently, but when he feels Eliott’s tongue slide along his bottom lip he parts them willingly. Their eyes flutter shut, breathing in each other’s warmth as they move together seamlessly, lips fitting together as fluent as a first language. Lucas knows no different than the electrifying shocks Eliott’s lips sent through every corner of his body, rushing in his blood and igniting his pulse.

He doesn’t  _want_ to know any different. He loves Eliott’s lips, and his kisses. How Eliott’s hands always cup his cheeks with so much care, thumbs tracing lightly across his cheekbones, keeping their faces close as they let out soft moans into each other’s mouths. How, when they pull away he still keeps them close, allowing their foreheads to rest together as their eyes remain closed, not wanting the moment to ever end. How when their gazes finally meet again it causes them both to grin stupidly, pressing more kisses to each other’s lips, noses and cheeks as unruly strands of bed hair tickle their skin and force breath-filled giggles to tumble from their swollen lips.

Lucas loves every single fucking thing about it.

**…**

 

**Thursday 16:38**

“Medium vanilla Latte and a medium Americano!” The familiar calling of Lucas’ order causes his head to shoot up from his phone. He moves from his spot against the wall to go and collect his drinks.

“Thanks,” he smiles at the worker. He doesn’t get much of a response, which is understandable considering she’s completely run off her feet with how busy the café currently is. He throws a few loose coins into the tip jar anyway, before pushing his way through the small gathering of people waiting in line and makes it outside, two drinks in hand.

“Finally!” Yann exclaims, accepting the drink Lucas hands him and wedging his skateboard under his arm as they begin to walk.

“Fuck off it was busy in there,” Lucas laughs, giving him a subtle shove. Yann shoves him back, before taking a small sip of his Americano, “Where are we going then? Skate park?”

“Yeah,” Lucas smiles.

It’s been quite a while since him and Yann have hung out together alone, just the two of them. It’s nostalgic. Reminds Lucas of the old times when they would roam the streets as kids, creating innocent havoc in the neighbourhood; seeing who could climb a tree in the fastest time, riding their bikes down steep grassy hills, passing an almost deflated football between them in a random field.

It had been like that for longer than Lucas can remember; Lucas and Yann, best friends since the age of four, inseparable, up against the world.

But that has fizzled out the during past few months.

And that’s only really Lucas’ own fault, he had become so distant, afraid of being alone within Yann’s presence because he knows he can’t really lie to his face. It was easier to just avoid, avoid, avoid, so that there wouldn’t _be_ any questions to answer in the first place.

So he wouldn’t have to lie.

But now that Lucas has grown a pair and put everything out into the open, he’s ready to rebuild that foundation again, mend the cracks that had begun to form between them. The feeling it brings him is hopeful, because he had missed this so much.

Lucas can’t skate for shit, so he usually spends his time at the skate park merely observing, watching Yann glide across the curved surfaces and twist in the air after each ramp. Some may find it boring, just sitting there and watching, but for Lucas it’s greatly calming.

They’re the only one’s there currently, which isn’t unusual for a Thursday night during winter. It means Lucas can let out overly enthusiastic cheers every time Yann makes a perfect landing, just to annoy the other boy, without the other skaters giving him dirty looks.

Eventually, after a while, an out of breath Yann collapses beside him, their legs dangling off the high ledge of one of the skate ramps.

“I’m done,” Yann puffs out, leaning backwards onto his hands and cracking his back. The sound causes a shiver to run up Lucas’ spine. “Ugh! don’t do that,” he groans, but it only makes Yann chuckle mischievously and do it again.

Lucas rolls his eyes, taking a sip from his coffee, it’s lukewarm by now, but the slight heat still lingering on the paper cup is comforting against the numbness of his cold hands.

“We haven’t really had the chance to speak this week,” Yann states nonchalantly, eyeing Lucas sideways.

Lucas nods, “Yeah, I know. It’s been a busy few days.”

“It has.”

It’s not like they haven’t _spoke_ , because they have, as a group they have grown so much closer. Chatting easily together about everything and anything. So that’s why Lucas gets the feeling Yann is referring to something else entirely.

His inkling is confirmed when Yann speaks again, “How are things with Eliott?”

The mention of Eliott causes Lucas’ lips to tug upwards automatically, “Things are good. Yeah. Really good.”

His words are nothing short of sincere. Not only has coming out brought him closer to his friends, but it has also made the bond he has with Eliott grow stronger. If that’s even possible considering how fucking good they were together already. Lucas just feels so free, on top of the world to the point where literally nothing could possibly hold him back anymore. And it’s telling in how he is able to let go around Eliott a thousand times more than he had before.

Lucas has fallen for him, hard. And he’s still falling more and more each day, with every single second they spend together and apart. The scary part is that Lucas can’t control it, but the exhilarating part is that _he doesn’t want to_. Lucas doesn’t want to control it, he just wants to let it happen. Because falling in love with Eliott is the easiest thing he has ever done. It’s exciting and lovely and beautiful.

So, so beautiful.

“I think I’m in love with him,” Lucas whispers, afraid of the words becoming wounded in the openness of the air. Because he wants to protect them, keep them safe from the rest of the world. It’s something he has never told anyone before, it’s new and a little daunting, the words he has saved for Eliott and Eliott only. But he wants Yann to know, it feels right letting Yann know.

He’s right, because Yann smiles brightly, brighter than Lucas has seen him smile in a while, “Yeah? That’s amazing, Lucas. Really, I’m so happy for you.”

His earnestness brings an intense fizzling of happiness to Lucas’ bones. He thinks he’ll forever kick himself for thinking Yann would be anything but supportive and accepting to Lucas’ coming out. For thinking he would treat Lucas any differently.

“I didn’t get a chance to say this the other day, but I want you to know how much I support you,” Yann speaks again, he’s looking dead into Lucas’ eyes now, his gaze completely unfaltering. “And thank you, for trusting us with that. I can tell how hard it was, and I’m sorry if you felt like we rushed you?”

Lucas is shaking his head before the sentence is even finished, “You didn’t.”

Yann nods, “Okay, Good. Just… I tried to give you space, but it was really fucking hard watching you suffer like that. Because you’re my best friend, Lucas, I’ve known you since we couldn’t even tie our own shoelaces for godsake. All I want is for you to be happy. Eliott makes you happy, yeah?”

The words cause a dampness to form around Lucas’ eyes as he nods reassuringly. Because  _Fuck yes, Eliott makes him so inconceivably happy._ So much it scares him slightly. 

He doesn’t even try to hide the tears threatening at his eyes. The heavy emotion is almost too much for him to wrap his head around, so many feelings bursting within him; relief, happiness, contentment, optimism.

“I was really fucking scared to tell you.” Lucas admits quietly, unable to control how his lip quivers slightly, “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Yann wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a brief sideways hug, “You could never lose me, you idiot.”

Lucas leans into his embrace, enjoying how solid and comforting it is. The small gesture speaks volumes, just like how Yann had done that day he came out, grounding Lucas in a way that makes him forget every fear and worry.

It’s not m the first time Lucas has come out, and it sure as hell won’t be the last, but it was definitely the most daunting. And he thinks Yann was able to understand that, if only just a little. But it’s all Lucas needs. It’s enough.

“But hey, enough about me,” he laughs bashfully when they separate, wanting to steer the conversation away from himself before he gets too emotional about it. “Tell me about you and Emma? How are things going?”

Yann seems surprised at Lucas’ sudden interest in the topic, and it makes him feel guilty all over again. Lucas had been so consumed in his own problems that he had completely stopped showing an interest in his friend’s life— which was really fucking shitty of him, _he knows—_  but there’s no going back now. Lucas can’t change the past, all he can do is make a better future. And he wants to, more than anything; he wants to try.

He wants to hear about Yann’s relationships and the details of his life that they always used to share with each other. It may have bothered Lucas in the past— listening to his friends blather on about girls— mainly because he couldn’t _relate_ , he didn’t share those feelings. But looking at it now it has nothing to do with that, it has nothing to do with whether his friends are talking about girls or boys or _whatever_. Because that shouldn’t _matter_. What matters is that his friends are happy, whoever they like.

They had made it perfectly crystal clear that all they wanted was for Lucas to be happy with Eliott, so Lucas should want nothing less than exactly the same for them.

“Things are… good, I guess,” Yann says. He rolls his skateboard back and forth along the pavement beside him with his hand, “I mean we’re not back together, but we’ve definitely worked a lot out, so never say never.”

“Mhm,” Lucas hums, “You guys will be fine. You always get there in the end.” He nudges Yann’s side encouragingly, earning himself an appreciative smile.

“I hope so,” Yann replies, before realisation strikes him, “Oh! I was supposed to tell you, she’s actually having a party tomorrow night to celebrate school ending for the holidays. You up for it?”

Lucas nods instantly, “Of course.” It’s been so long since he’s gone to a party, actually the last time being the one of Emma’s where he first met Eliott— which is crazy to him, how distant the memory seems. Lucas definitely owes it to his friends to actually show up this time, and he will. He knows he will.

“Cool,” Yann grins.

When they decide to call it a night— with the sun beginning to set and the glow of streetlamps indicating darkness would soon devour them— Lucas waves Yann goodbye at the street corner that separates their opposite directions.

Lucas takes his time walking home, content with revelling in the freshness of the chilling winter air, how it fills his lungs with a slight sting but is soothing all the same. It’s almost as if Lucas is walking on clouds with how light and euphoric he feels. It feels so good knowing he has his best friend back and Eliott at the same time. Because who would have thought it was possible to have both and not have to feel guilty about it?

He smiles to himself at the thought of Eliott, _his boyfriend_ , the familiar fluttering feeling dancing within his heart.

As Lucas rounds the corner leading to the street of his apartment he pulls out his phone, deciding too much time has passed without his friends being able to witness how outrageously amazing Eliott is. He would introduce them all tomorrow, Lucas promises himself. The time feel right.

So fucking right.

**Lucas 19:39**

_There’s a party tomorrow night at Emma’s, will you come?_

**Eliott 19:40**

_I’d love to :)_ _❤_

**Lucas 19:40**

_❤_

**…**

 

**Friday 22:09**

The heavy bass of music is thumping in Lucas’ chest, it almost disguises the feeling of his heart rapidly beating at a thousand miles per hour. He takes a sip of his beer, leaning his elbows on the kitchen island and watching amusedly as Arthur and Basile take turns flipping bottle caps onto the top of their empty beer bottles. It’s not proving to be very successful, as they’re missing every single time.

“Let me try! You goons are useless!” Yann interjects when Basile flicks the piece of metal so far off it almost hits someone on the back of the head from the other side of the kitchen.

Lucas can’t help but laugh at their antics despite the nerves twisting within him. Tonight was the night he was going to introduce Eliott to his friends, the first time they would be together as a couple in public for everyone to see. And the fact that Eliott had texted him earlier that day to say he would be a little late wasn’t entirely helping the matter, Lucas just wants to get it over with already. The anticipation is excruciating, _he just wants to see him._

Basile stubbornly tries to bat Yann’s hand away as he reaches for one of the loose caps, “Hey! C’mon man just one more try!” He whines.

“Give it up Baz, I swear my little sister could aim better and she’s five.” Arthur teases, it earns him a glare from Basile who is quick to retort back, “I didn’t see you aiming much better.”

“You were _both_ shit at it,” Lucas butts in, grabbing his own bottle cap and joining Yann at the other end of the kitchen island, his back facing the party, “Leave it to the professionals.”

Yann nods in agreement, “Watch and learn kids.”

When Yann and Lucas toss their bottle caps at the exact same time, both pieces land simultaneously smack in the centre of each beer bottle. It causes them to cheer boisterously, throwing their arms in the air and yelping with glee.

The other two boys don’t look pleased in the slightest as they stand with their arms folded defensively, Arthur narrows his eyes, “I swear you cheated.” He mutters at the same time Basile lets out a disbelieving, “How is that possible?”

Lucas just shrugs his shoulders, smiling smugly, “Well it’s really not that hard, is it?”

“Guys, guys, guys!” Basile chants quickly, completely changing the subject and pointing very indiscreetly towards the living room.

They all turn their heads to follow the movement, Lucas’ eyes flicker across the room to find what had caused his friend to become so frantic. He rolls his eyes when he spots the brunt of the problem - Daphné pushed up against some dude, their tongues visibly attacking each other in a way that makes Lucas crinkle his nose.

He snaps his head back towards Basile, “Don’t watch that,” he orders.

Basile peels his eyes away reluctantly, furrowing his brows in disillusionment, “Why?”

“Because,” Lucas starts, shaking his head dumbfounded, “That’s going to be you by the end of the night. We’re going to make it happen, and I don’t want you putting yourself off by seeing that.” He points a determined finger towards the boy, and looks to Arthur and Yann for some encouragement. They both nod enthusiastically, throwing supportive agreements his way.

Basile still looks deflated and unconvinced, “And how are you going to do that?”

Lucas is only moderately offended by Basile’s distrust in him. He doesn’t care what anyone says, he _will_ get Basile that kiss from Daphné. And in years to come when they’re all sat around the table at their wedding, Lucas sure fucking hopes they’ll all be thanking him.

He feels like he owes it to Basile to help him out, after all Lucas hasn’t been the greatest of friends after ditching Basile’s birthday and all those shenanigans— and he _knows_ they have forgiven him, that he shouldn’t feel as guilty as he does, but he can’t help it— so he’s going to wingman the heck out of his friend until Daphné realises how fucking lovely the guy is.

Because Basile is, lovely that is. He may appear slightly too forward at times, but deep down he’s the biggest softie. Lucas would know, he’s read the soppy poems Basile wrote in his diary at aged thirteen about the first girl he liked. They were sweet, and he deserves someone. Any girl would be lucky to have him constantly fawning over them.

“Just trust me,” Lucas responds, tapping the side of his nose. In truth he has no plan whatsoever, but he has the rest of the night to think something up and what Basile doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Lucas has determination, and that’s enough.

“Okay.” Basile sighs but drops it, going back to gulping down his beer.

They return to their dumb game, Arthur and Basile improving only slightly with the helpful advice of Yann. It’s quite regular for them to spend the majority of parties cooped away in the kitchen, acting like idiots, it’s fun. And it’s not like they don’t mingle— they do, there’s plenty of time for that— but they just enjoy the simplicity of being in each other’s company, tipsy and giddy from alcohol as they think of new activities to entertain their childlike brains.

Lucas would be lying if he says he hasn’t missed this with everything in him.

He’s laughing at Yann who had just knocked over a beer bottle— scrambling flimsily to catch it before it smashed to the floor and almost falling himself in the process— when a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind. He recognises them instantly, how they pull him back slightly to rest flush against a solid chest, how a familiar smell of cigarettes masked with cologne fills his nostrils, how fingertips dig nimbly into his stomach like a gentle but reassuring presence.

Lucas cranes his head backwards to find Eliott grinning ridiculously down at him, and Lucas is a little tipsy, so the movement causes his vision to spin slightly. It makes him giggle deliriously.

“You came,” Lucas smiles as he spins in Eliott’s grasp to face him, resting his hands against his chest. He’s wearing an oversized black denim jacket that makes Lucas’ knees go weak.

“Mhm. Here I am,” he murmurs softly, Lucas can just about hear it over the loud thrashing of music. “You good?” Eliott leans in closer to question. Lucas nods, he’s more than good now that Eliott is here.

Lucas’ smitten brain sparks back to reality after he realises he’s probably been gazing up at Eliott for a beat too long, and that his friends are literally right there. He chuckles to himself, twisting back around to find them all staring totally unbashful, the most stupid grins tugging at their faces. Lucas can’t help the ache straining his own cheeks as he takes in their excited expressions.

He steps aside, placing a hand to Eliott’s shoulder as he gently pushes him forward towards the other boys, a gesture that says: _here he is, my absolute world, please take care of him, please be nice._

“Guys, this is Eliott,” He speaks confidently, pausing for dramatic effect and enjoying how his friends squirm in anticipation, “My boyfriend.” He finishes, feeling butterflies wrestle in his chest when Eliott gleams at him and his friends let out mini squeals, not wanting to draw too much attention to the scene but also not being able to contain their excitement.

“And this is Yann, Basile and Arthur.” Lucas points to each boy individually as he introduces them to Eliott.

“Hi,” Eliott gushes, Lucas can sense the slight timid edge to his tone, so he moves his arm to his waist, pulling him into his side and squeezing. A reminder that he’s there, that Eliott doesn’t need to be nervous because Lucas is right there next to him no matter what. It seems to alleviate Eliott's nerves slightly as he wraps his own arm around Lucas’ shoulder before he speaks again, more assertively this time, “It’s really great to meet you guys.”

“Yes dude! Finally, Lucas won’t shut up about you,” Basile proclaims. Lucas gives him a dissatisfied glare, about to object because he can _feel_ the smug look Eliott is more than likely displaying right now, but before he can Arthur interrupts.

“I think you’re getting mixed up, Baz. You definitely talk about Eliott more than any of us.”

It causes them all to chuckle, Basile doesn’t defend himself because he knows it’s the damn truth, although Lucas doesn’t bring up the fact that Yann and Arthur are just as bad - the three of them always slipping Eliott into conversation: “ _How’s Eliott?_ ”, “ _Does Eliott like Fifa?_ ” or “ _Eliott wouldn’t steal my fries!”_

Lucas would always roll his eyes at their ridiculousness because they hadn’t even met the guy yet, but he couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of happiness at the fact that even though they knew next to nothing about Eliott, they had already taken him in without a second thought.

“Want a beer?” Yann aims towards Eliott, who smiles and accepts it gladly, removing the metal top on the edge of the island counter. Lucas watches as his fingertips turn white from the pressure grip he has on the neck of the bottle and then how when he takes his first gulp, the entire length of his neck becomes exposed, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows slowly.

He can’t help it, the yearning feeling of hunger that bubbles within him at the sight of Eliott looking so damn _hot_. Fuck. But Lucas has already established that he’s edging on more than tipsy at this point, so that’s what he’s blaming his shameless gawking on.

Eliott seems to be the only one that notices— as the others have gone back to their game, now trying to land the metal cylinders into cups of what looks like vodka— his eyes flicker to Lucas sideways, throwing him a subtle smirk. Lucas wants to kiss it right off his face, the little shit. But Eliott does no more, as he moves to the other end of the island to join the three boys, “Can I try?”

“Yeah man, go ahead.” Arthur hands him a cap and steps aside. Eliott misses, because he’s all limbs and clumsy fingers. Lucas wouldn’t have expected anything less. It’s still fucking adorable though, how he pouts in order to trick them into letting him have a second go in a row. He already has them wrapped around his fingers.

Lucas feels so immensely happy, pride surging through him as he watches Eliott and his friends laugh and talk easily with each other, like they’ve known him for years. It’s comforting, deep down Lucas knew things would be okay, but there was still a small part of him that had worried about this moment, _what if they don’t click?_  In the end he didn’t have to fret whatsoever though, because Eliott fits right in, and it’s more than reassuring to see.

Yann manages to slip away from the game at some point, moving to lean against the counter next to Lucas as they observe the others mess around like fools.

“Eliott is awesome.” He nudges Lucas’ side, voice loud enough to be heard over the music but just as quiet so that only Lucas can hear.

“Yeah he is,” Lucas breathes out with a wide smile, not being able to peel his eyes away from his boyfriend, is was currently giving Basile a very intense pre cap throw prep talk.

“Happy for you,” Yann smiles, sincere.

The movement of a few people entering the kitchen catches Lucas’ eye, and he grins as he makes eye contact with Imane from across the room, Alexia and Manon trailing in behind her and going straight for the fridge.

“’Sup losers,” Imane says as she approaches Lucas and Yann, “Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, you?” Lucas responds, Imane hums, “Me? Yeah. Emma, not so much,” she grimaces then.

Yann perks up at this, his eyes concerned, “Why? Is something wrong?”

Imane purses her lips, “I think she’s stressed, someone smashed her mother’s vase. You should go check on her.”

“Uh… yeah, okay. I’ll go,” he fumbles out, “I’ll see you.” And he’s gone before they can even respond, Lucas chuckles at how obviously whipped the dude still is for his ex.

Imane goes to lean next to Lucas, taking a sip from her coke can, “How glad are you that we won’t have to listen to Mrs Rigaux ramble on about the reproductive system for a whole two weeks?”

Lucas throws his head back and lets out an exaggerated groan, “So fucking happy, like I don’t think anyone understands.”

She laughs at his melodrama, but it filters out when he sees her gaze falter. Lucas follows it until he’s also looking at Arthur, Basile and Eliott, who are still attempting to flick bottle caps into everything and anything.

“Eliott?” She calls out in slight surprise. It’s audible enough to cause Eliott’s head to shoot up at the sound of his own name despite the noisiness of the room.

Eliott’s face turns from confusion to delight when he spots Imane standing next to Lucas, and he bounces over to them eagerly, before pulling Imane into a hug. “Imane! Hey, it’s been a while,” he says as they pull away.

Imane grins, “It has. How have you been?” Lucas is confused by their actions, it’s unexpected considering he wasn’t even aware that they knew each other.

However, Eliott doesn’t seem fazed whatsoever, “Better,” He says, but shakes his head suddenly, almost as if to correct a slip of the tongue, “Good, I mean.”

“You two know each other?” Lucas interjects, not being able to hold his puzzlement in any longer.

Their heads snap over to him, like they had completely forgotten he was still standing there. Lucas narrows his eyes as they glance to each other again, “Uh. Kind of. In a way.” Imane stutters, “How do you two know each other?” She dejects Lucas’ question, which is terribly unfair because Lucas had asked first.

But he won’t pass up on an opportunity to flaunt his new boyfriend, so.

“Eliott is my boyfriend,” He informs her, Lucas can feel himself become increasingly giddier each time he says those words. _My boyfriend._ They fall from his lips so effortlessly, like a second nature.

Surprise spreads across Imane’s features, but it’s quickly replaced by a knowing look of understanding as she smiles warmly, her eyes flickering between the two of them. “So you’re the reason he’s always late to class then.” She aims it at Eliott, less of a question and more of a statement, accusing but teasing.

Eliott laughs brightly, turning his lips downwards slightly like he has just been caught red handed, “That’s me.” He sends a smile Lucas’ way, it’s stunning. His eyes glisten against the sparkling disco lights illuminating the dim kitchen, causing Lucas’ heart to flutter and his cheeks to sting with happiness.

Lucas kicks himself for keeping Eliott hidden away for all those weeks, now knowing how amazing things could have been, how easy Eliott gets along with his friends.

He had wasted so much time.

But maybe Lucas needed that time. Time to understand his feelings, to find himself, to get to know Eliott. He may have some regrets about the way he handled certain aspects, but he wouldn’t change how things panned out whatsoever. How he came out to the people he trusts only when he was completely ready, nobody had forced him into anything, and they had all been nothing less than accepting. And he’s so unbelievably thankful for that, because he knows there are thousands of people just like him who _don’t have that_ , who have to hide who they are their entire lives out of fear of being ridiculed, beaten or even _killed_.

So Lucas is fucking lucky, he gets that. And he’ll never not feel an indescribable feeling of vast gratefulness when he thinks of his situation.

The other two girls approach them eventually, and Lucas does the introductions all over again— even though he’s sure Eliott has already met both Alexia and Manon before— he just likes fucking doing it, sue him.

Lucas sort of has an inkling that Manon knew already, considering they live together and he’s had Eliott over more than a few times, but she smiles nonetheless. Alexia has a less subtle reaction as she squeals excitedly, throwing her arms around Lucas’ neck and squeezing.

“I knew you could do it,” she whispers privately into his ear, Lucas smiles into her shoulder.

"Thank you,” he whispers back, he doesn't elaborate, but he thinks she understands exactly what he's talking about.

**...**

 

**Saturday 00:02**

As the night progresses, Lucas feels himself become increasingly tipsy. He’s not  _drunk_ drunk, but he feels the buzz hitting his head and swirling his vision, causing him to feel giddy and delirious. It’s a good stage of drunk to be at, because he can have fun but still have the adequate level self-control required to not do anything stupid that he would probably regret in the morning.

Eliott seems to think differently, as he lifts Lucas’ giggling head up, “You’re a bit drunk.” 

It only makes Lucas giggle more as he squints his eyes and shakes his head in denial, “Am not. You’re drunk.” He retorts.

So maybe he was a little bit more intoxicated than he had first let on. But he hasn’t fucked it yet, he can still stand up on his own, Eliott is just being dramatic.

“I’ve only had one beer, baby.”

Lucas ignores the fact that his knees wobble at the word and wraps his arms around Eliott’s waist to pull him closer, mumbling a halfhearted ‘boring’ into his chest. Eliott only chuckles at his moaning and places a kiss to Lucas’ lips, it’s over way too quickly for Lucas’ liking, almost as if it was a vivid fragment of his drunken imagination. So he pouts his lips in attempt to lure Eliott back, wanting to feel his lips again, and for longer.

Strangely, Lucas doesn’t care that they’re in the middle of Emma’s kitchen, surrounded by a fuck-ton of other people, he wants to kiss Eliott and he doesn’t give a damn who sees. It’s extricating.

Lucas is fully convinced Eliott will deny him of his kiss just be a nuisance. So he’s a little taken aback when Eliott walks him back into the kitchen counter, his hands still cupping his cheeks as he connects their lips. A breathy moan falls past Lucas’ lips as his back hits the surface behind him, Eliott swallows the sound as he chases Lucas’ tongue, their swollen lips sliding together heatedly. Lucas’ hands grasp the material of Eliott’s t-shirt under his jacket to ground himself and prevent his legs from collapsing entirely beneath him.

But Eliott clearly has some kind of vendetta against him, as he pulls back way too abruptly. Lucas whines in protest, not understanding why Eliott would put an end to something so amazing.

“Why’d you stop?” He frowns, tugging on the boy’s shirt to emphasise his discontent. Eliott has a questionable look of playfulness on his face. It’s slightly discomposing, Lucas thinks. _What are you planning?_

“I have a present for you,” Eliott supplies joyfully. Lucas squints, feeling a bit confused, “A present?”

Eliott nods enthusiastically, as he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out said present. Lucas lets out a gleeful yelp when he’s able to identify the object, taking it from Eliott’s grasp and inspecting it closely.

“No way!” He laughs, completely baffled.

“I told you I never come to a party without my trusty supply of glitter, didn’t I?”

Luacs shakes his head at Eliott’s completely serious tone, “You really weren’t kidding.” He can’t fucking believe Eliott is a real person, so pure and wonderful and ridiculously adorable.

“Nope.” He retrieves the glitter back from Lucas’ hands and twists the cap, “And look. We’re in the exact same spot as we were the first time.” Lucas glances around, he’s right, they are stood exactly how they had that first night they met, the night Lucas lost all ability to control his overbearing want.

It’s like déjà vu, the good kind not the niggling annoying kind. Lucas feels his face twinge with how wide he’s grinning. He fucking loves Eliott so much.

So much it aches, almost.

“I guess we came full circle.”

“I guess we did,” Eliott smiles.

It’s how they find themselves giggling into each other’s mouths, hands and cheeks completely smothered in sparkles of shiny specs of silver and gold, reflecting the shimmering happiness in their eyes. 

Their noses bump together as they kiss, Lucas definitely thinks they end up with a couple grains of glitter in their mouths. But he doesn’t care, all he can think about is Eliott; Eliott’s soft lips, roaming hands and warm breaths. He’s not sure how long they spend pressed against each other like that. Way too long to be socially acceptable, he thinks.

”Mhm,” Lucas mumbles, breaking away only enough to allow room to speak, “Time’s it?” 

Eliott shrugs, moving back in to catch Lucas’ lips. Lucas lets him, melting into it for a few moments before pulling away to try again.

”What time is it? I need to help Baz win over Daphné.” Sudden panic overcoming him because he’d made his friend a promise and it’s surely getting late. He needs to do something about it soon. 

Eliott chuckles bemusedly, “You’re thinking about Basile while I’m kissing you?” 

Lucas rolls his eyes, “ _I promised_.” 

“I know, you’re the sweetest.” He peppers small kisses across Lucas’ face, pulling a string of giggles from his lips.

Lucas bats him away halfheartedly, “C’mon, help me.” He drags a reluctant Eliott out of the kitchen and into the swarm of sweaty bodies pushed together on the makeshift dance floor in search of his friends. He finds them crowded together in the corner of the living room, having a pretty heated conversation, he catches the brunt of it as he approaches, Eliott trailing behind him.

“What the fuck do I say? Hey, you’re literally all I can think about? That’s fucking dumb.” Basile is complaining, moving anxiously between two feet.

“Ah! Lucas, finally! Help us out here?” Arthur demands when he notices Lucas approaching, pointing to Basile who looks more than stressed.

They all look at him expectantly, _fuck_ , he hadn’t thought past this point, he was too busy sucking the face off his boyfriend.

“Uh…” He fumbles, trying to wrack his brain for ideas. _Think, think, think,_ Lucas dammit.

Turns out he doesn’t have to, because Eliott has his back, as per usual, “I think you should do exactly that.” He says plainly. He must sense their confusion, as he continues to elaborate, “Like… Have you ever explicitly told her how you feel?”

Basile furrows his eyebrows in thought, before he shakes his head, “I guess not explicitly, no.”

Eliott smiles as if to say ‘ _well there you have it_ ,’ “So do that then, it’ll work I promise.”

Yann and Arthur seem to agree as they nod together, but Basile doesn’t seem entirely convinced quite yet, “How can you be so sure?”

“Well it worked for me didn’t it?” He responds, smirking teasingly towards Lucas.

“Hey!” Lucas whines, “You didn’t say shit only kiss me!” He defends, slapping a hand to Eliott’s chest, because he’s not about to let him take credit for such monstrosities.

“I’m kidding,” the other boy chuckles, catching Lucas’ hands, pulling him into his chest and resting his chin to the top of Lucas’ head. “Look, just be straight up with her. Lay it all out on the table.”

Basile looks out onto the dance floor, spotting Daphné standing alone and mindlessly swirling a straw in her drink, “Okay.” He nods to himself, trying to psych himself up probably, “I’m going.”

He pushes his drink into Yann’s chest, who almost drops it with the abruptness of the movement, “Right now? He’s going right now!” Yann gushes excitedly as Basile takes a deep breath and wanders off.

They all watch as he makes his way towards Daphné, not even attempting in the slightest to disguise their nosiness, someone may as well hand them a bag of popcorn each.

The two seem to chat for a few minutes, Basile doing the majority of it as Daphné watches him curiously, nodding every so often as if to take everything in. He makes her giggle a few times, which causes the group of prying eyes to cheer like they’re watching a football match.

Eventually after a while Basile leans in, Lucas can feel himself and his friends around him visibly tense in anticipation, before finally they kiss.

“No fucking way, he actually went and did it!” He hears Yann exclaim, along with an excited screech from Arthur.

Lucas can’t help but grin widely, feeling nothing but immense happiness for his friend, who had finally gotten a kiss from the girl he has been gushing over for _weeks_.

He couldn’t have done it without Eliott’s help though, and he turns to face the boy to tell him as such. “Thank you,” he whispers, Eliott is still pressed up behind him, his arms wrapped around Lucas’ chest in a kind of hug.

Eliott smiles down at him radiantly, his voice quiet and gentle in Lucas’ ear, “I’d do anything for you.” It’s completely bare and honest, the rawness of the words set flames alight within Lucas’ bones, travelling through his entire body and igniting a beautiful melody in his heart.

 _I believe you._ It sings. _I love you._

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the calm before the storm, perhaps? heheh, leave me a lil comment or some kudos if u feel like it. Love u <3
> 
> quote is by rosemonde gérard.


	11. reste s'il te plait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh this took way too long, i’m sorry shit got busy. i also nitpicked at this so hard, i don’t think i’ll be fully happy with it *sighs* also v sorry for This, but i did tag angst so... heh despite all of this hopefully u can enjoy <3 LOVE U

_« âme sentinelle,_  m _urmurons l'aveu._  d _e la nuit si nulle._  e _t du jour en feu. »_

_…_

 

**Sunday 11:23**

December passes in a blur. Lucas spends Christmas with his mum, he takes her out of the clinic for a few hours to go for lunch, they exchange presents, watch pointless television. He then spends New Years at some random party with his friends, the minutes surrounding midnight with his lips pressed into Eliott’s, cheering as Basile gets another kiss from Daphné (or several).

It was nice, normal almost. Like how Christmas used to be before it turned into an excuse for stress, fights and arguments between his parents, Lucas getting caught in the middle.

So things have been good, Lucas supposes. His father had even sent his monthly rent transfer on time without Lucas having to reach out to remind him.

Lucas feels content. Which is a strange thing for him to admit since the past few years he’s felt so overwhelmed with anxiety and worry about almost every situation in his life. It feels slightly disorientating to feel completely at ease.

Not that he’s complaining, it’s fucking exhilarating.

“I love this birthmark you have here,” Eliott mumbles, pointing to the faint speck on Lucas’ neck. He squints, “Or is it a mole?”

It’s the first thing Lucas hears as soon as he wakes up. He catches Eliott’s finger, linking their hands and bringing them to his face, pressing a delicate kiss to the back of his hand. Lucas’ vision is still somewhat unfocused, the outline of Eliott’s features slowly becoming less obscured as he blinks the sleep from his eyes.

“You gotta stop watching me sleep,” his voice is gravelly, thick against his throat and he clears it sharply, wishing he had some water to wash away the staleness in his mouth.

“But you’re so beautiful,” Eliott whispers, his brows furrowed in dissatisfaction, offended that Lucas would even suggest as such.

Lucas ignores the blush playing on his cheeks and presses further into his bed sheets, seeking out their warmth. The duvet had slipped from his shoulders at some point during the night, causing a slight chill to run up his neck despite the excessive heat Eliott exudes beside him.

Eliott notices, and disconnects their hands to pull the duvet back around them again, wrapping his arms around Lucas’ frame and pulling him into his chest. It’s warm, and Lucas melts into it.

“What are you doing today?” Lucas asks after a while of silence. Eliott had been going between rubbing soothing hands up and down Lucas’ back and running fingers through his hair. His question comes out slightly muffled, since his face is still pressed into Eliott’s chest.

“Not much, really. My parents want me to go to dinner with them later,” he responds. Lucas pulls away from his place in Eliott’s chest but still stays close, just enough to be able to see Eliott’s face.

“Are you going to go?” he asks, watching as Eliott purses his lips in thought. “I don’t know,” he says, unsure.

“I think you should,” Lucas decides confidently.

Eliott hums, his voice is apprehensive when he mumbles a soft, “Yeah?” Lucas nods, reaching his hand out to cup Eliott’s cheek and running a thumb along the corner of his lips, “Yeah,” he confirms, “I think it’ll be good for you.”

And it’s not something they discuss all that often, their parents, that is. Lucas still hasn’t built up the courage to tell Eliott why he doesn’t live with his own. It’s not because he doesn’t want Eliott to know, or that he’s ashamed of his mother’s illness, he’s _not._ It’s more to do with the fact that he wouldn’t know _what_ to say, like: ‘hey, my mother lives in a psychiatric clinic because her delusions mean she can’t distinguish deception from reality and my dad is an asshole’?

It’s not really your typical light-hearted Sunday morning conversation, is it?

Apart from a few occasions, Eliott also seems to keep his family life pretty close to his chest. Lucas knows about that one time they fought, but Eliott had reassured him things were good between them now, even suggested introducing Lucas to them. The thought scares him a little, knowing Eliott’s parents may not be particularly keen on him. But he would do it if it made Eliott happy.

“Mhm. They’ve been on my back quite a lot lately,” he admits, his face leaning into Lucas’ touch.

“About what?”

Eliott sighs, there’s a look of hesitance to his features, a small crease falling between his eyebrows and his gaze not quite meeting Lucas’, “Just stuff.”

“Stuff…?” Lucas prompts, because it’s fucking annoying when he does that, bringing something up that’s clearly bugging him but then brushing it off as if it’s nothing.

Eliott looks back to Lucas, moving his head closer to rest their foreheads together, “It doesn’t matter,” he whispers, brushing their lips together, urging Lucas to let him in.

Lucas refrains, “It does,” he says, shuffling back only a fraction when Eliott ignores him and continues to try and deflect the conversation with a kiss, “Eliott, I’m serious.”

He lets out another sigh, “What do you want me to say? We don’t talk about that stuff.” The words sound agitated, and they cut into Lucas’ heart a little.

“Well maybe we should,” Lucas is still tracing a finger along Eliott’s cheek, he doesn’t want him to think that he’s mad— because he’s not, not at all— he’s merely curious. He cares about Eliott, _he’s in love with Eliott,_ he wants to know everything about his life, he wants to make sure he’s okay.

“Alright,” Eliott pokes him in the stomach, “Go on then, tell me why you live in a flat share.”

And he’s deflecting the question again, putting the spotlight onto Lucas.

But if Lucas opening up about his mum is what will get Eliott to open up in return then he’ll do that. Because he wants Eliott to know everything about his life too, he wants this to work between them, and that can’t happen if they aren’t being honest with each other.

So Lucas swallows the apprehension clawing at his throat and trails his hand down from Eliott’s cheek, running it past the curve of his neck and along his bicep until it falls onto the sheets between them.

“My mum isn’t well.”

Eliott frowns, worry tracing his eyes, “She’s sick?”

“Yeah,” Lucas breathes, but then shakes his head, correcting himself, “No, I mean, not like that. She’s not well like… mentally.”

Something washes across Eliott’s face that Lucas can’t put his finger on, it’s almost foreign to him, it’s unnerving, “Mentally how?”

“She’s mentally ill.” It’s strange hearing the words coming from his own mouth, it’s not something he’s spoke about with anyone other than Yann, really, and even then Lucas hadn’t fully let himself open up about it.

The look on Eliott’s face only falls into a stronger frown as Lucas continues to speak, “She’s always been that way. When I was growing up it would go through periods of being really bad, like she would turn into a completely different person, sometimes I still feel like I can’t recognise her.”

He runs his hand along the edge of the duvet, picking at a lose thread nervously, “But then there would be times where she was completely fine, and things were normal. But then my dad left us and it just… things got bad again. She wasn’t the same after that. I couldn’t deal with it on my own, so we agreed the best place for her was the clinic, it’s where she is now.”

“I’m sorry,” is all Eliott says, and Lucas hates the look he sees on his face, hates that he still can’t read it.

“It’s not your fault I had a shit childhood,” he chuckles lightly, cynically. It tastes bitter on his tongue, like his taste buds have been stripped bare by sharp acid.

“It must be hard for you though, no? To see her like that,” Eliott murmurs, “Do you still see her?”

Lucas purses his lips, his gaze catching onto a fleck of dust that had been floating around above Eliott’s head for about ten minutes now. “Yeah I guess it’s hard. I try to visit as much as I can, but sometimes I feel like I just can’t get through to her, like I’m talking but she’s not really there. I don’t really know what to do when that happens, just feel helpless.”

He returns his gaze to Eliott, who is staring down at the bed sheets, his lips pulled into a frown, “Hey, it’s okay though. We’re getting through it,” Lucas assures him, lifting his head with a finger to his chin.

Because they _are_ getting through it _._ He won’tsay things are perfect with his mum—because they aren’t, and they never will be— he’s come to terms with that. The fact that they’re trying is enough, though. It’s hopeful.

“Your turn now,” Lucas whispers. He needs to stir the conversation away from himself. He’s said his bit, Eliott knows now. And the heavy weight pushing into Lucas’ chest as he thinks about his mum, all alone in the clinic is beginning to feel like too much.

Eliott is quiet for a few moments, but he breaks it with a slight smile. Lucas can tell it’s forced, it doesn’t quite meet his eyes like his smiles usually do. “I should go,” he says.

The wavering in his voice is unsettling, and Lucas furrows his brows in confusion, “What? Why? Did I say something?” He’s worried he’s scared him off now with his emotional ranting, given how abrupt Eliott’s announcement comes.

“No, no,” Eliott shakes his head, running a hand along Lucas’ shoulder as he sits up, “It’s not you. I promise.”

“Then what?” Lucas sits up too, his voice edging on desperate.

Eliott looks away, then back again, “I just have some things I need to do before I meet my parents,” and he’s being vague again. Lucas watches him for a few moments, Eliott mirroring him, almost like they’re both trying to telepathically gage each other’s moods. Challenging.

“Okay,” Lucas finally gives in with a deflated sigh.

Eliott falters, his lips parting like he’s about to say something else, but he shuts them just as quickly. He slides out from under the covers to retrieve the clothes he had shed off the night before.

Lucas watches from the bed as Eliott gets dressed, not really knowing how to feel. Weird, maybe. He feels weird, he hasn’t seen Eliott like this before, so reserved and dismissive.

Neither of them have said anything else, and Eliott is pulling his last shoe on, the silence between them feels heavy. Lucas is almost expecting Eliott to leave without another word.

But instead he moves back to the bed, sitting on the edge and reaching out to cup Lucas’ face. He lifts his head gently, his fingers delicate as his eyes flicker across Lucas’ face, eventually finding his eyes. It makes Lucas feel slightly vulnerable, how intense his gaze is, searching almost.

“I’ll see you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a single kiss to Lucas’ forehead. Lucas’ eyes flutter shut at the touch. He goes to reach out, his fingers aching to feel the solid presence of Eliott’s body, but Eliott is already moving away. He stands silently, his eyes not meeting Lucas’ as he moves towards the door.

And then he’s gone. Without another word, he’s gone, like a candle in the wind - disappearing into thin air before Lucas can all but blink. Eliott is gone, but he ineluctably leaves behind his lingering scent, a damp pressure to Lucas’ forehead, and the faint touch of hands against cheeks.

Lucas falls back into his sheets with a sigh.

**…**

 

**Monday 08:24**

Lucas is sat in his usual seat on the bus when he gets the text. It had already been a disaster of a morning to begin with, Mika had woken him up way before his alarm by dropping a glass of water in the hallway, then Lucas had cut his foot on one of the rogue shards when he was going to the bathroom, _and then_ he had burnt his tongue on his coffee. So yeah, he’s not really in the perkiest of moods currently.

It’s why when he reads the words displayed on the lock screen of his phone they don’t quite register in his brain straight away. It’s only when he blinks a couple of times, and clicks into the message, reading it at least four times along with the sender name does it hit him like a ton of bricks.

**_Eliott 08:24_ **

_Hey, I know this is shit coming from a text, but I think I need to take a step back. Things have been going really fast and I just need some time. I’m sorry, I’ll understand if you won’t forgive me._

Lucas’ first thought is, ‘ _is he joking?’_ Because what the fuck? But his rationale kicks in, and he really wishes it hadn’t, because _Eliott wouldn’t joke about something like that._

It feels like the world has collapsed. The bus suddenly feels a lot smaller, the already confined walls closing in on him and holding him down. The pressure squeezes at his chest and claws at his throat, like sharp fingers have forced their way into his body and are gripping onto his heart, pulling it from his ribcage and tearing him apart. Leaving him with tears threatening at his eyes and every nerve point in his body feeling numb.

His fingers tremble as he types out a reply, it’s uncoordinated, he misses letters, doesn’t read over it. He feels frantic, a strong need to find out what the fuck Eliott is thinking reeling through him in almost anger.

**_Lucas 08:25_ **

_Eliott wht do u mean? can we talk about this??_

_???_

He waits an excruciating ten minutes for Eliott’s response, staring vacantly out of the bus window, his mind screaming a million different things at him at a thousand miles per hour.

It doesn’t come.

**…**

Lucas is thirty minutes late for biology. He had spent a good twenty of those searching for Eliott around school in a panic, only for someone to inform him that he wasn’t even in school in the first place. Which is just fucking fantastic really, because he needs to speak to Eliott so desperately it’s making him feel dizzy. But he’s already falling behind in his classes and he can’t afford to miss another day and _fuck,_ he hates this.

He ignores the glare and the, “Nice of you to join us Mr Lallemant,” dig he gets from his biology teacher. She’s lucky he even showed up _at all_ given the morning he’s just had. 

“Everything okay?” Imane whispers when Lucas takes his seat next to her.

Lucas sighs, everything isn’t okay, not in the slightest. He also doesn’t know what the actual problem is, because Eliott’s text had come completely out of nowhere. Not once has he given Lucas the impression that they were ‘going to fast’. And he’s trying not to feel mad, wants to keep a level head until he gets a chance to speak to Eliott and sort whatever this is out.

 _But he can’t help it_.

He does feel a little enraged, and hurt. Hurt that Eliott didn’t even have the guts to tell it to him in person.

But how does he tell that to Imane without sounding like a pathetic dramatic mess? Or crying? Because to be quite honest the thought of Eliott ending what they had managed to build together— something so beautiful and pure and easy— over text, makes him feel like crawling into a ball and sobbing his heart out.

Instead, while their teacher turns her back to try and get a video to work on her laptop, Lucas pulls out his phone and shows Imane the text.

She reads it with a slight frown, a small crease forming between her brows as her eyes flicker across Lucas’ screen. When she’s done Lucas shoves his phone back into his pocket and watches as she sits there silently. She doesn’t speak for a few moments, almost like she was trying to gather her thoughts, choose the right words.

When she does it’s gentle, cautious almost, “Have you spoken to him?”

“No,” Lucas shakes his head, his voice close to cracking, “He won’t answer me, and he’s not in school.”

Imane watches him sympathetically, “Ah.”

The memory of Emma’s party strikes him then – how Eliott had lit up upon seeing Imane, familiarity washing over their features, “You two know each other,” he states. It’s not a question, he doesn’t want to give her the chance to brush it off again. “How?”

Imane purses her lips against her pen, clicking the button at top of it continuously in contemplation, “He was friends with my brother.” It’s as brief as an answer could get, Lucas needs more.

“Was?” He pushes.

Imane sighs and nervously flicks her eyes over to their teacher, who had now taken to fiddling with the wires connecting her laptop to the speakers. “It’s not my place to say, Lucas. You need to ask Eliott.”

Lucas huffs out an irritated breath, “But he won’t talk to me about stuff like that!”

“Well then you need to try harder,” her tone is blunt, but Lucas can see the pleading in her eyes, like she knows something he doesn’t, _don’t put me in this position,_ they’re saying. “You have to try harder,” she amends, softer this time. Lucas is about to pry further, he’s so confused, so hurt, so worried. But he’s snapped out of it by their teacher clapping her hands, “Lucas! Imane! Eyes on the board.”

Imane turns away, but when Mrs Rigaux faces the board again, she glances back to Lucas, “He may be ignoring you right now, but it’s important that you talk to him before you think up some horrible story in your head about what’s going on, okay? Trust me.”

Lucas can’t focus for the rest of the class, or the rest of the day. He doesn’t know what to think. He feels lost.

So maybe Eliott didn’t mean what he said over text, maybe he’s going through something and is just freaking out. But that’s the thing, _Lucas doesn’t know_ , because Eliott won’t talk to him. And he thinks that’s what hurts him the most, the fact that maybe Eliott doesn’t trust him enough to fully open himself up to Lucas.

He tries to hold onto Imane’s words,  _don’t think up some horrible story in your head._ He’s trying not to jump to conclusions. But he can’t help the spiraling whirlwind of worry reeling through his brain. Was Eliott hurt? In danger? Was it his parents? Or does he just not feel the same way about Lucas as Lucas feels about him?

See, he can’t help it.

**…**

 

**Friday 13:24**

“You’re sulking again,” Yann comments, flicking a piece of rolled up napkin at Lucas’ face. Lucas looks up from his plate, blinking himself out of his daze and noticing how he has absentmindedly destroyed his chicken into several messy chunks with his fork.

“He’s not sulking, he’s pining,” Basile interjects.

Lucas sends them a death glare, “I’m doing neither,” he half-heartedly defends himself – because truthfully he knows he downright _is_ sulking, and pining, and everything in between.

He can’t stop thinking about Eliott. And it’s not much different than before, because Lucas usually finds himself daydreaming about Eliott way too often to be classified as normal.

But this is different.

Now his thoughts are crammed with worry and anxiety, not knowing where they stand, not knowing where Eliott is, if he’s okay, what the fuck is going on in general.

“Eliott still hasn’t responded?” Arthur asks, taking a sip from his water bottle. Lucas only presses his lips into a thin line and shakes his head.

He’s killed the mood again, he knows. But he can’t help it, it’s been five days since he’s seen Eliott, four since he received the dreaded text. He has sent Eliott an embarrassing amount of desperate messages since, had even showed up at his apartment and waited outside for a full forty minutes one day.

But Eliott isn’t budging, is showing no signs of life whatsoever. He hasn’t even attended school all week. All Lucas had gotten was a short ‘ _I don’t feel like talking right now. I’m sorry Lucas’_ text late Wednesday night. He hasn’t told anyone about that though, it’s too fucking heart wrenching to even think about. He just doesn’t understand what he’s done wrong.

“He’ll come around bro,” Yann pats a consoling hand to his shoulder, “Just give him time.”

 _Time,_ Lucas thinks, _fucking time._ He’s sick of time, he’s waited way too long already. Things between him and Eliott were only just getting good— things were amazing, blissful— so Lucas can’t fathom, or wrap his head around why Eliott would break things off so abruptly.

It’s agonising, not knowing.

“Oh!” Basile perks up, “There’s a party tomorrow night! Zoe from the second year is hosting it, Daphné told me to tell you guys. Maybe it’s what you need to cheer up, Lucas huh?”

Arthur grumbles, “Second years?”

“Oh come on! Everyone’s going!” Basile defends, “Plus we’re doing it for Lucas, it’s what he needs.”

Yann purses his lips, “If it’s for Lucas then I’ll go.” He nudges Arthur, throwing him a pleading look. Arthur sighs then, “Fine. But we’re getting really drunk. Especially Lucas.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, “You guys know I’m right here?” Basile nods, unfazed, “Yeah. You gonna come?”

And Lucas really isn’t in the mood for partying right now, he’s too fucking sad. But the guys seem so excited about the prospect of getting drunk and getting Lucas drunk that he doesn’t even try to protest - they wouldn’t let him off that easily anyway.

“Sure,” he mumbles, it comes out as more of a sigh. _It’ll be fine_ , he tries to convince himself. He’ll just get really drunk and forget about this entire head tangling mess with Eliott, what could go wrong?

Basile looks ecstatic as he yelps out a cheer, “Yes! It’s gonna be so fun, you guys. Trust me.”

Arthur narrows his eyes, “Last time you used the words ‘trust me’ we ended up at a random bus stop on the complete wrong end of Paris and had to walk for two hours to get home.”

“Are you still mad about that? C’mon it was funny!” Basile whines, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth at once, “Was it not funny?” he aims at Lucas and Yann.

Yann shrugs, throwing Arthur an apologetically smug look, “It was pretty funny.”

Lucas smiles at the memory. It was when he and Yann had only just adopted Basile and Arthur into their friendship group, and they had decided to go on an exploration around the city. Basile had _insisted_ that they take the number 32 bus home: “ _It will take us to the bus stop literally right outside my house. Trust me, I’ve done this before.”_ It hadn’t. They ended up in some random part of town none of them were familiar with, and Lucas had to guide them all home using google maps on his phone.

It was the day that had set the initial tone for the friendship that was to come; chaotic and disorderly, but full of so much mutual love and support for one another.

“Look! Even Lucas is smiling!” Basile points, smiling in gratification, “It was funny. End of discussion.”

Arthur swats him on the back of the head, “Losers.”

It causes Lucas to let out a slight chuckle, the first time he has been able to feel just a little happy in the past few days. He truly does love his three idiot friends more than anything.

**…**

 

**Saturday 23:03**

The room is spinning. There’s a burning sensation swimming deep within Lucas’ throat that could only be explained by the vodka shots he had gulped down, or was it tequila? He can’t even remember. Whatever it was, it wasn’t agreeing with him in the slightest.

Lucas had thought coming to a party and getting absolutely off his face drunk would have helped him feel better, would have let him push the disconcertment that was Eliott and that wretch of a text to the back of his mind just for one night.

Unfortunately for him, things are never that simple, because it had only done the complete opposite.

His head is lolling, it feels like he’s observing the party through a dream, like he isn’t really there, not fully present. The edges of his surroundings are fuzzy and pieces of furniture had begun to mesh into one, and all Lucas can think about was Eliott.

Now he just feels sad, and sick, and fucking depressed.

The room is loud, thunderous music vibrating from the centre of Lucas’ chest and rippling outwards through his body, numbing his toes and his fingertips. It’s dizzying.

“Dude, are you good?” Lucas hears someone ask, Yann he thinks.

Lucas responds with an inarticulate grunt. He’s squished in between Arthur and Yann on the sofa, his head resting in his hands while his elbows dig into his thighs. It’s a lousy attempt at trying to stop the room from spiraling behind his eyelids. It’s not working at all, he still feels queasy.

It’s Arthur who speaks next, “Maybe you should stop drinking bro.” Lucas looks up and frowns at them, blinking to steady his vision, “You’re the ones who told me to get drunk.”

Yann chuckles, “Not this drunk though.”

Lucas screws up his faces in annoyance, because he didn’t even want to come to this stupid party in the first place. Yet here he is, drunker than all his friends, completely inebriated, still thinking about Eliott.

He’s about to grumble at them—about go on a rant about why he shouldn’t have even came in the first place— but he’s interrupted by the churning feeling swirling deep within his stomach, a strong pang cascading throughout his body and threatening its way up his throat.

“I have to—” Lucas mumbles, shaking his pounding head and pushing himself off the sofa, “I have to go.” He blinks once he’s stood up, the room sways, or maybe Lucas is the one swaying. He’s not sure.

He winds his way through the crowd, ignoring the concerned shouts Yann and Arthur throw after him.

Trying to find the bathroom is a challenge, because drunk people are coming from every direction - bumping into Lucas as he walks, or refusing to move to let him past. It’s infuriating, and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

Lucas finds it eventually, and stumbles urgently towards the door. He tries the handle, jingling it a couple times, pushing it forwards with force.

“Occupied!” A shout comes from inside. Lucas sighs, letting his forehead fall onto the door with a thump, and shutting his eyes, “Fuck.”

He can’t believe he’s allowed himself to get into this state, _it’s embarrassing._

Although, the nauseating sensation twisting in his gut seems to lessen the longer he stands there. The hallway is a lot quieter compared to the living room area, and Lucas’ head is still banging, but it wasn’t as harsh. He’s able to calm himself just enough to not feel like he might splatter the entire contents of his stomach all over the floor.

When he feels stable enough to move he turns around, now leaning his back against the bathroom door. That’s when he sees him. Lucas has to blink a couple of times to make sure he was actually seeing properly and wasn’t so intoxicated he had begun to hallucinate.

But Lucas wasn’t seeing things, he’d know that face anywhere, could probably pick it out from a crowd of millions if he had to.

“Eliott,” he murmurs quietly to himself, watching as Eliott chimes into a conversation with a group of people at the far end of the hallway, close to the living room door. And Lucas suddenly feels angry, because _what was he doing here?_ He had told Lucas he didn’t feel like talking.

Lucas internally scoffs. _Oh, so you don’t feel like talking but you can come to a party?_ Or maybe he just doesn’t feel like talking to _Lucas._

He lolls his head to the side to catch a better view, once he gets a good look at Eliott’s face—his sweet smile, his messy hair and his pretty lips— Lucas’ irritation floods away instantly, washes out through his pores turbulently. Now his heart just hurts. It aches to reach out, pull Eliott towards him and wrap himself into his warm embrace. He craves it so desperately.

“ _Eliott,_ ” he says again, this time louder and with more emphasis. It causes Eliott’s head to snap up, his gaze flickering across the hallway until it eventually, and painfully slowly, finds Lucas.

Eliott’s face falls pale, Lucas thinks, or maybe it’s the light blue washing of disco lights shadowing his features – again, he’s too wired up to distinguish between the two.

He watches as Eliott excuses himself from the group of people and makes his way over to Lucas, stopping right in front of him. He takes in Lucas’ state, leaning against the door sloppily, his eyes drooping every so often with dizziness. Lucas is slumped quite far down, it makes the height advantage Eliott already holds over him exceedingly more discernible.

“How much have you had to drink?” Eliott asks softly, kindly, not probingly. Always so caring, even while he’s being a dick.

“Why do you care?” Lucas mumbles stubbornly, because he’s an obstinate drunk who holds grudges and is still so fucking confused and hurt.

He pleads for the pang in his chest to go away at the sight of Eliott gazing down at him, wants to trample all over the dumb butterflies that flutter their unruly wings when a strobe of purple light catches onto the side of Eliott’s face and twists the icy blue of his eyes into a beautiful mixture of green and grey.

Eliott exhales through his nose, sharply but calmly, “You’re drunk.”

“Well it is a party, so.”

He frowns, glancing around the hallway before looking back to Lucas again, there’s an evident sadness lacing within his eyes too, it pricks into Lucas’ heart.

“Let me take you home,” Eliott whispers, his voice quiet, pleading almost.

Lucas feels woozy, and it seems like Eliott is completely sober. Although Lucas can’t be certain, he’s in no state to be judging other people’s level of intoxication at this moment in time.

It also means his reaction times are lagging slightly, because he _does_ hear the clicking of the bathroom lock being undone, and he registers the handle twisting against his arm. But he doesn’t move, he can’t really think all that much, can’t think about anything other than the heat he could feel radiating from Eliott onto his own skin.

He almost stumbles backwards with the door, but the firm grip of Eliott’s hands finding his waist stops him from falling. The touch is electrifying, it’s familiar and solid and _there_ – Lucas has missed it so much.

But it’s gone just as quickly, Eliott retracting as soon as Lucas has two feet firmly on the ground again.

And it’s not fair, _Lucas wants more._

A tall blonde pushes past them, a boy following behind her and wiping smudges of red lipstick from his mouth as they leave the bathroom. Lucas scrunches his nose at the thought of him standing right outside the entire time that was going on.

“Can I take you home?” Eliott tries again, his eyes wide and concerned.

Lucas gives into his desperate adjuring, deciding he should probably call it a night since his level of drunk wasn’t providing a pleasant buzz in the slightest. He wants to go home. Going home sounds good.

He lets out a weak sigh and nods, “Okay,” he whispers, blinking tiredly and feeling just a little defeated.

Eliott guides him through the hallway and past the small crowd gathered by the front door with a hand to the small of his back. The touch is innocent, but it burns through the thin material of Lucas’ t-shirt and scars his skin with need and want - longing for more.

The crisp air nips at Lucas’ skin once they’ve left the house, and Eliott removes his hand in favour of folding his arms to block out the cold. Lucas doesn’t feel the chill, he’s too drunk and Eliott has left his skin feeling like a house on fire with only two momentary touches.

They walk in silence. Lucas’ flat isn’t far, maybe five minutes, but it feels like only two in his current hazy mind-set. Or maybe he had blanked out. Fuck knows.

Once they arrive, he expects Eliott to leave him there, after all Lucas is home. But he stays while Lucas unlocks the door of the apartment block (or tries too, because Lucas is so disorientated that he can’t coordinate where to put the key, so Eliott has to take it from his grasp and do it himself) and then he follows Lucas up the three flights of stairs, a hand on either one of his shoulders to make sure he doesn’t fall backwards and crack his head.

Lucas wordlessly hands Eliott the keys back to unlock his flat door once they arrive, knowing he still wouldn’t be able to do it with how much his head is spinning.

Eliott pushes the door open gently, guiding Lucas through the flat quietly as to not wake any of his flat mates. His arm tightens around Lucas’ waist when he stumbles while walking past the kitchen, accidentally kicking a metal plant pot and causing a dull clang to echo throughout the flat.

When they finally get to Lucas’ room, Eliott follows him in, shutting the door behind them. Lucas falls face first onto the bed with an exasperated sigh, his nose digging into the pillow. He suddenly feels sleepy, his mind fogging up with cloudy delirium, like he could just pass out any second.

“I’m gonna take your shoes and jeans off, is that okay?” he hears Eliott ask, it sounds muffled and edging on indistinct to Lucas’ ears, sleep forcing its way into his bloodstream and slowing down his senses. He makes an incoherent noise into the pillow case.

Slowly, he feels Eliott prying off his shoes one by one, then his hands are on Lucas’ waist again, just hovering, “You have to turn over,” he instructs softly.

Lucas sighs before rolling over, the bedroom light is harsh against his eyes and he shuts them instantly. He feels himself spinning as he lies there, like he’s falling, spiraling into a little hole. He moves his head along with the sensation, rocking his neck in circles against the pillow, like he’s a boat bobbing along with the waves of the deep sea.

A giggle tumbles past his lips when he thinks about how he probably looks to Eliott, nodding his head from side to side.

_He’s so fucking drunk._

Eliott’s fingers fiddle with the button of his jeans, undoing the zipper and then pulling the denim down past Lucas’ thighs. And Lucas would probably be more turned on if it wasn’t for the fact that he currently felt like a dead weight with no sense of surroundings.

Once his jeans are off Eliott pries the duvet from under Lucas’ lump of a body and covers him with it, tucking it around his shoulders and into his neck. Lucas nuzzles into the sheets, their fresh linen scent calming him.

“Goodnight, Lucas,” he hears Eliott whisper, and his feet shuffle as he goes to leave. But Lucas’ mind short circuits, and his heart is yelling at him to not let Eliott leave, _not again._

Lucas reaches out, his hand finding Eliott’s shirt with his eyes still shut and clasping on, stopping him from moving any further, “Stay,” Lucas murmurs. The word is intensely quiet in the stillness of the room, and Lucas holds his breath as he waits for Eliott’s reaction, he doesn’t respond. “Please,” Lucas tries.

Eliott’s hand covers Lucas own, prying it from his t-shirt and moving away. Lucas feels his heart plummet.

Lucas hears a switch click, and the distinct brightness that was still noticeable through his closed eyelids fall into darkness. Then he hears more shuffling, and he feels the bed dipping beside him. He smiles when he smells Eliott’s familiar cologne fuse with his sheets, the soothing presence of his body like gentle beach waves lapping against the seashore. Flooding in, and out, filling Lucas with ease.

“Goodnight, Eliott,” he half mumbles, half slurs. Feeling himself falling deeper into unconsciousness, his mind slowly coming to a halt.

He wants to reach out and pull Eliott into him, wants to shuffle forward and press himself into Eliott’s chest, the thought only sits with him for a brief moment, because then he’s drifting further, and further, and then he’s asleep.

He’s so far into his dreams, so exhausted and filled with too much alcohol that nothing could have woken him for the rest of the night. Not the loud screeching of teenagers racing their cars and honking their horns in the streets below. Or the giggling and clanking of pans from Manon and Emma when they arrive back from the party and decide to bake muffins at one in the morning. Not even the soft whisper Eliott lets float into the night, the hushed “ _I love you,_ ” that intertwines the space between them, weaving its way through the sheets and enclosing itself around Lucas’ sleeping body.

But Lucas wouldn’t have heard, because he was completely dead to the world. Nothing could have broken through the barrier that held him deep within unconsciousness.

They were still there though, even if Lucas doesn’t hear them. The words hang poignantly in the air as they fall from Eliott’s lips and Eliott hears them, and he smiles, he aches.

**...**

**Sunday 10:53**

Lucas wakes to the throbbing of his head and the brightness screaming at him from behind his sheer curtains. He scrunches his eyes shut, pushing his face into his pillow to try and ease the dull ache. It tastes like something has died his mouth, the foulness of lingering liquor turning his stomach.

“Ughfh,” he groans inarticulately, the sound muffled by fabric.

He lies like that for a few moments, waiting on edge for the feeling of neausea to inevitably hit him. But it doesn’t come, thank heavens.

That’s when the abrupt memory of the night before floods back to him: getting really drunk, Eliott taking him home, Eliott staying over. Lucas snaps his head up, his neck cracking at the sudden movement.

Eliott isn’t there.

The bed next to Lucas is cold and empty, he feels his heart sink in his chest as he reaches out and runs a hand along the sheets beside him.

He almost convinces himself it was all a dream— that Eliott hadn’t actually been at the party, Lucas was just _that fucking intoxicated,_ a complete mess—but when he rolls over he sees a glass of water, a box of aspirin and a folded note on his bedside table. It solidifies the reality for him.

Lucas sits up, slowly as to not awaken the churning in his stomach, and grabs the water first. He chugs it down in one, then has to swallow two pills dry because it’s too fucking early and he’s definitely still a little tipsy.

His hand finds the note then, turning it around between his fingers nervously, before unfolding it cautiously, like one wrong movement would cause it to burn up in flames. Ashes floating away with the wind before Lucas has a chance to read it.

Lucas’ breath hitches when his eyes flicker across the paper. It’s from Eliott without a doubt, the familiar drawings of a raccoon and a hedgehog clawing at Lucas’ heart.

Eliott has sketched two scenes. On one there’s a raccoon and a hedgehog lying beneath the stars, comical smiles across their faces and a ridiculous amount of tiny hearts surrounding them.

 _‘Under the stars, it’s only us who exist. You are all that matters,’_ it says underneath. Lucas’ chest twinges as he exhales shakily.

The second drawing has the animals standing back to back, evident frowns on their faces, the separation between them is distinct. It’s cute, and it’s Eliott written all over. The adorable shit he usually pulls. But it’s heart wrenching all the same. _Because Eliott had left again_. _He keeps leaving_.

Lucas feels the tears gather at his eyes when he reads the caption underneath this one. The words work their way under his skin and claw at his pulse points. It hurts, and it _aches,_ and he feels like he can’t breathe.

_‘In case you ever foolishly forget: I am never not thinking of you.’_

Lucas breaks.

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the quote at the beginning of this chapter is from a poem called ‘L'Eternité’ by arthur rimbaud
> 
> i have a [tumblr](https://lumierelovers.tumblr.com/) if u wanna come yell at me abt this. love u guys


	12. je t'aime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my dudes!!! so this is the last proper chapter ahhh!!! i plan on writing a short epilogue so it’s not completely over yet, don’t worry.
> 
> also!!!! vvv important!!! the past few days i have been editing the previous existing chapters of this fic, because i realised how messy my verb tense was. so that has all been fixed and i would urge you, if you have time, to go and maybe take a lil read (if u want heh, i personally feel like it reads so much nicer now) ~anyways i’m ranting. i hope you enjoy this!! <3

_« j’ai aimé jusqu’à atteindre la folie. ce que certains appellentla folie, mais ce qui pour moi, est la seulefaçon d’aimer. »_

_…_

 

**Wednesday 16:29**

“I’m just saying,” Yann is opening Lucas’ bedroom window, he’s just after spraying a dramatic amount of aerosol around the room, the pungency of it causing Lucas to wheeze slightly, “That maybe if you actually leave your bed and speak to Eliott, you would probably have a much better chance at clearing everything up.”

Lucas huffs, because it isn’t that easy. It really isn’t. And sure, Yann is right about one thing, Lucas has barely left his room in four days. The first day had been justified, Lucas believes, because he was suffering from a hangover from hell, and the remembrance of the night before, along with the note Eliott had left for him was enough to spiral Lucas into another frenzy of confusion and hurt and _I just need to be alone._ The second day, being Monday, speaks for itself really. Lucas hadn’t been in the mood to suffer through a full two periods of biology, not while Imane would have been right there, knowing something Lucas doesn’t and he wouldn’t have even been able to ask her about it. Because Imane is the nicest person on earth, albeit frustrating, she would never entertain Lucas’ prying, especially at the expense of someone else. Tuesday had been an accident, sort of. Lucas had woken up around twelve, checked his phone for any messages from Eliott, saw there was nothing, and so went back to sleep.

He had naïvely thought that Eliott staying over, leaving the note, going out of his way to remind Lucas that he’s always thinking of him, would have changed things. But despite all this, Eliott still continues to ignore Lucas’ attempts to reach out, and it’s becoming _so damn draining_.

So that’s where Wednesday leaves him, hair greasy, breath stale, his stomach screaming from borderline neglect, and his mind on an incessant loop of _Eliott, Eliott, Eliott._

“I’ve tried texting, he won’t respond.” Lucas is growing agitated, because it’s all people have been telling him. _Try harder, talk to him._ But Lucas _is trying_ , he _has tried_. And why should it be up to Lucas anyways? Eliott is the one who left. It’s Eliott who isn’t trying, shouldn’t that be a sign enough that maybe he’s just not interested? That maybe Lucas should just drop it and move on?

The thing is he can’t. Lucas knows he can’t, because despite everything he’s still in love with Eliott at the end of the day. He’d have to be some kind of emotionless robot to be able to just shut those feelings off. Hence the excessive moping.

Yann sighs, moving to sit at the edge of Lucas bed. “Lucas,” he sounds fed up, “I’m telling you this because you’re my friend and I care about you. But you look like shit, and you stink. Go and talk to Eliott.” There’s no malice in his tone, although it’s firm, Lucas senses the intent behind it.

He knocks his head back against the headrest of his bed, he doesn’t need Yann to tell him he looks like shit, he already _feels_ like something has crawled inside of him and died there.

“Eliott doesn’t want to talk to me,” Lucas mumbles, “I’ve tried, Yann. I have. You know I have.” He doesn’t mean for his voice to sound so weak, but it just goes to show how deeply melancholic he feels.

And Lucas appreciates Yann’s concern, he does, but it’s a little difficult to accept his advice when all Lucas wants right now is to be left alone. Or maybe not entirely, he wouldn’t mind Eliott’s company. Possibly, or desperately. Because in spite of the irritated guise he has acceded to, he still aches, and craves Eliott’s familiar presence. Eliott, who is Lucas’ _boyfriend,_ after all.

Or was. It could be a ‘ _was’_ situation. Lucas doesn’t even know the answer to that, because _Eliott isn’t responding to his fucking texts._

“I know,” Yann gives him a sympathetic smile. It’s pitying, and it only infuriates Lucas more. “I just hate seeing you like this, so upset. You two seemed so happy before, I guess I’m just finding it hard to grasp what the issue is.”

The issue is that Eliott has broken up with him, and is avoiding him. Lucas doesn’t say that though, only looks down to his hands that are fiddling with the bed sheets.

“I’m just as lost as you are.”

Yann sighs again, the sound is becoming too accustomed, Lucas thinks. “So you need to talk to him. In person. He owes that to you, he owes you an explanation,” Yann says.

He’s right, Lucas does deserve an explanation— not that he’s entitled to know everything about Eliott’s personal business— but as his boyfriend (or former), he thinks he should at least be allowed _something._ Even if Eliott doesn’t want to be with him anymore, even if it’s not a full in depth exposition, Lucas just needs something, _anything_. He’s sick and tired of losing sleep over this.

Yann leaves an hour or so later, but only after Lucas promises to at least think about what he’s said. Truthfully, Lucas hasn’t decided how much sincerity lies beneath his words when he mumbles a halfhearted ‘I’ll try,’ but if Yann notices Lucas’ apprehension he doesn’t mention it.

It’s later on, when Lucas is emerging from the bathroom— finally deciding to brush his teeth for the day, or evening— that he hears the hushed voices of his flat mates from the kitchen. Lucas pauses just before the kitchen door, his ears burning at the sound of his own name laced within Manon’s concerned tone.

“Lucas is a sensible person,” she’s saying, “But I’m really worried. He hasn’t left the flat all week, has barely even left his bed.”

“I know,” Mika is next to speak up, “It’s to do with Eliott, Yann was saying.” Lucas’ heart pangs at the mention of Eliott, he shuts his eyes briefly, willing the ache to go away. _Leave me alone for two seconds._

“He hasn’t been really been eating much, his shelf is practically bare,” Manon comments. It makes Lucas feel a little bad, if not guilty, for causing them to worry so much.

“Plus he stinks,” Lisa mutters. Lucas can only imagine the glare Manon most likely throws at her with the beat of silence that takes over. He decides lurking in the hallway earwigging probably isn’t the smartest thing to do, so he steps forward until he’s in the doorway and clears his throat.

The three look up startled, eyes wide. Mika is the first to soothe out his shocked expression, “Hey, Lucas. We were just about to come see if you were okay.”

 _Yeah, okay,_ Lucas thinks to himself.

“I’m okay,” he supplies, although it doesn’t sound convincing whatsoever.

They don’t seem to pick up on it, or if they do they actively decide to ignore it, “Are you hungry?” Manon asks, “I made a lasagne.”

Lucas is hungry, starving in fact. But the thought of heavy meat and pasta being his first meal of the day churns his stomach slightly. So he politely declines, instead opting for some cereal. He has to borrow Mika’s milk, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He feels their eyes burning into his back as he pours his cereal, and when he sits at the table with them they don’t even try to hide their stares.

“We heard about you and Eliott,” Mika voices after a while. Lucas blinks, chewing his cornflakes slowly. Mika continues, “And we just want you to know that we’re here for you. Y’know, because breakups can be hard, so if you need anything or want to talk or vent or whatever, just shout.”

 _Breakup_. Lucas’ brain narrows in on the word. It sounds wrong, sour, he hates it. He hasn’t really allowed himself to think of it in that way, hasn’t thought of writing off his hallow mood as the product of a going through a breakup. Doesn’t _want_ to think of it like that, maybe because a part of him hopes he and Eliott can work this out.

“Thanks,” he says nevertheless, not having the energy to try and correct Mika at this point in time.

“If it’s any consolation,” Manon speaks softly, her voice kind, “Most of the time things like this happen because of communication, or a lack of. I would know. Communication is so important.” Lucas thinks back to the horrible couple of months last year when Manon had broken up with her boyfriend. Something to do with cheating, Lucas can’t quite remember. Turns out the whole ordeal had been a misunderstanding, and if they would have just spoken to each other, they probably wouldn’t have even ended things in the first place.

It’s what Lucas clings onto, along with Imane’s words from last week, _it’s important that you talk to him, trust me._ And Lucas does trust Imane, so much. He files it all away into his brain, not into a far corner, the words are reachable. He highlights them, _don’t forget._

He then finds Eliott’s words, _I am never not thinking of you,_ and he paints them across every surface of his mind. _Don’t forget. Don’t forget._

**…**

 

**Thursday 13:53**

Lucas returns to school the next day, because he can’t fall behind on his classes any more than he already has. He actively tries to seek out Eliott the entire day, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Arthur woefully informs Lucas that he hasn’t seen Eliott in school all week. The information solaces him for only the briefest of milliseconds, knowing the situation is possibly having as much of an effect on Eliott as it’s having on Lucas, that he wasn’t just going about his life as if things were okay and normal. The thought is selfish, and it’s quickly replaced with worry. Because Eliott has missed a huge degree of school the past few weeks, considerably more than Lucas, and he knows how determined Eliott has been to pass his bac this year. So he must have a solid reason to be skipping this much. He wouldn’t just throw everything away for no reason.

He’s on his way to class when he feels his phone buzz. Lucas pulls it out faster than necessary, and he shouldn’t be as disappointed as he is when he sees it isn’t Eliott trying to contact him. Instead seeing his mother’s name light up the screen.

**Mama 13:53**

_Hi Lucas, been thinking of you. I hope all is well, maybe you’d like to meet for a coffee soon? I miss you._

Lucas feels himself smile at his mother’s words, and he instantly accepts her invitation. He’s missed her too, although it hasn’t been that long, with his visits to her becoming a lot more regular. Lucas hasn’t seen her since the whole thing with Eliott blew up, and he’s very much in need of some comfort from her right now, if he’s being honest.

**…**

**Saturday 14:03**

The sweet smell of baked goods infuses Lucas’ senses as he enters the café, the air changing to a slightly stuffy but comfortable warmth, a considerable polarity to the brisk chill outside. Lucas spots his mother in one of the corner tables, two mugs placed on the table in front of her. He smiles as he makes his way over to her, and when she notices him approaching she stands to pull him into a hug. Lucas melts into it, tucking his nose into her shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut. His breath shudders slightly, and he swallows harshly to stop the lump in his throat from multiplying. He really doesn’t want to cry in public.

“Hey,” his mother whispers, pulling away and cupping his face. Her fingers are a little cold but gentle nonetheless, “What’s the matter, love?”

Lucas exhales a shaky breath, willing the looming tears to disappear from his eyes. “Can we sit?” He asks, because he doesn’t want to make a scene either.

“Of course,” she says, both of them taking a seat, “I ordered you a hot chocolate, I hope that’s okay.”

Lucas smiles at the gesture, “Yeah. Thank you.” The mug is warm when he takes it between his hands, and the chocolaty liquid is soothing as it runs down his throat. He can feel his mother’s gaze on him as he sips at his drink, her eyes are inquisitive but still remain welcoming, kind.

“Now come on,” she eventually speaks, small playful smile on her lips as she tries to brighten the mood a little. “Tell your old mother what’s gotten you so upset.”

Lucas sets his mug down, watching as the liquid swirls from side-to-side at the movement. He purses his lips, takes a short breath, “I think Eliott broke up with me.”

“Oh,” her voice is quiet, “You think?”

Lucas’ lungs feel tight thinking about it, but he pushes past it because he needs to get this out, he so desperately needs to verbalize his feelings. “He said he needed time, that things were going too fast. Which was a lie, I think. I think there’s something else. But I don’t know what because he’s practically ignoring me. He’s not coming to school, or answering his texts, or his door. And I’m worried, ma, because I love him, and I don’t know what to do.”

His lip is trembling by the end of it, and he can barely remember what he’s said as soon as the words leave his mouth with how much he’s shaking. He feels his mother’s hands cover his own on the table.

“Lucas,” she urges him to look up, “It sounds like Eliott might be going through something. I don’t want to speculate or anything, but if he’s having a hard time he might just need space.”

Lucas huffs out a sigh, “I’ve tried giving him space. But then he goes and walks me home a party just to make sure I get home safe and stays over because I asked him too and leaves me a damn note and—” He shakes his head, frustrated.

“What note, darling?” His mother questions.

“He left me a note saying that he’s never not thinking about me, or something. What am I supposed to do with that? I can’t just ignore it.”

His mother nods slightly, her lips pushing together in thought. “Okay,” she starts, “So then you go to him.”

Lucas shakes his head again, about to interject _because he’s already tried that._ But she holds a calm hand up to stop him from speaking, he snaps his mouth shut.

“You go to Eliott, because that was him reaching out. I’m sure of it. We’re not all good with words, he’s maybe scared, I don’t know. But if he’s not being the one to instigate things, and it means that much to you then Lucas you have to. You have to go see him.”

And it makes sense, somewhat. Lucas hadn't thought of Eliott’s drawing in that way, as a silent plea. So maybe his mother is right, maybe Eliott wants to reach out but he doesn’t know how, maybe he isn’t meaning to ignore Lucas. Maybe. 

“Don’t be an idiot and let something as good as Eliott go just because he’s taken some time for himself.” 

Lucas frowns at her. “Not an idiot,” he defends. She raises her eyebrows in a dubious look, “I didn’t mean you are, just that you may end up as one if you don’t get off your ass and get your boy back.”

It’s the first time he’s laughed in a while, albeit a vague one, merely a light chuckle.

”If you want something you have to fight for it. Texting him clearly isn’t getting you anywhere, so you have to keep trying, you have to try harder.”

”Okay.”

”Promise me you’ll go and speak with him,” his mother is saying now. 

“I promise,” Lucas assures her, and this time he means it. He really does mean it. 

Although his mother’s words haven’t ventured too far from what he’s been hearing for two weeks now by all of his friends. She hasn’t necessarily told him anything new, or different. Somehow, though, they cause something to click inside Lucas’ brain, realisation settling in and slapping him in the face. 

Whatever Eliott is going through, despite everything, he had stayed that night, and he had told Lucas in writing that he’s all that matters, that he’s always thinking of him. That has to count for something, right? It has to mean _something_. 

So Lucas knows what he needs to do now. He has to forget about the half-assed unanswered texts, and the moping about in bed. He has to fight for this, he has to make sure Eliott knows how damn serious he is about it.

He has to try, at least.

“How have you been?” Lucas asks his mother then, because he hasn’t yet, and he feels bad. 

She smiles, it’s warm, and it brings a huge sense of serenity to him. “I’ve been really good, yeah. Things have been good.” Lucas smiles back, he’s glad. 

Hours pass where they engage in more light hearted conversation, and Lucas almost forgets the whole Eliott situation for a while. It’s nice. 

Once they’ve left the café, and after they’ve hugged goodbye— his mum whispering sweet encouragements into his ear— Lucas thanks her, and promises to see her again very soon. He then turns to walk down the street. He doesn’t go the usual way home though, instead he steers the opposite way, he goes in the direction of Eliott’s apartment. 

It’s not a far walk, and the entire time he’s trying to think in his head a way of making it actually into Eliott’s building. Because Lucas doesn’t have a key, obviously, and to ring the buzzer comes with him having to speak to Eliott through a speaker, and the risk of Eliott refusing to let him up. 

Luckily, the universe must have felt bad for all of Lucas’ recent misfortunes, as when he arrives, there’s a man just leaving the building. Lucas speeds up his pace and thankfully makes it in time for the man to smile at him and hold the door ajar for him to push through. 

Lucas sincerely thanks him, he’ll maybe try to find out his apartment number and send him a fruit basket or something. Just for saving Lucas’ ass. He takes the stairs to Eliott’s apartment two at a time, and when he gets to Eliott’s door he’s out of breath and reeling with nerves.

His knuckles are persistent when they rattle against the wood of the door. He waits for a few beats. But there’s no response. He tries again, this time with a little more force. Maybe Eliott hadn’t heard. 

Lucas’ ears twitch when he hears some shuffling coming from the other side, and his heart picks up in anticipation as he waits for the door to swing open. It doesn’t. He sighs. 

He knows Eliott is there, can hear someone there anyway. He’s probably seen Lucas through the peephole and decided not to answer. Lucas thinks about giving up, just going home. But his mother’s words ring in his ears  _and he has to try._

“Eliott are you there?” He calls out. Nothing. “Eliott?” Lucas tries again. The response doesn’t come in the form of Eliott’s voice, or Eliott opening the door, instead Lucas feels his phone buzz against his thigh. He pulls it out. 

**Eliott 17:46**

_I want to talk to you. I do. But I’m afraid._   

The words pull at the strings of Lucas’ heart, daring them to snap, Lucas almost feels like they just might. His fingers move with urgency as he responds, like Eliott’s text will disappear into oblivion if he doesn’t act fast enough.

 **Lucas 17:46**  

_What are you afraid of?_

**Eliott 17:47**

_I’m afraid that you’ll think differently of me. I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose you._

**Lucas 17:47**

_You don’t know that_

_Just open the door and we can talk_

_Please_

**Eliott 17:48**

_I do know_

_Everyone leaves eventually, they always do_

**Lucas 17:48**

_I won’t_  

“Eliott,” Lucas says again, his voice wavering and his hands shaking, “Please open the door, Eliott. Baby, please.”

He sounds desperate, he knows he does, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Lucas needs to do this, he needs to try with every last fighting bone in his body until he’s absolutely sure he has nothing left. He has to try. 

Eliott must sense Lucas’ pleading, as the door clicks open then. Painfully slowly, and Lucas is struck with the sight of Eliott, his shoulders hunched over, his skin pale, his under eyes dark and purple. It’s heart wrenching to see. All Lucas wants is to reach out, to wrap his arms around Eliott’s shoulders and pull him close. He wants to hold Eliott into his chest and keep him there forever. But he doesn’t, he respects the short distance between them for now.

“Hey,” Lucas says instead, swallowing the lump in his throat and curling his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out. 

“Hi,” Eliott whispers, and Lucas didn’t think it could be possible for someone’s voice to crack on just one syllable. But here Eliott is, breaking his heart. 

”Are you free to talk?” Lucas asks. 

Eliott’s eyes aren’t meeting his, and it hurts. “Can we meet somewhere? In like an hour?” Eliott says, “I just. I need to—” He gestures his arm in the vague direction of the apartment. And Lucas understands, his arrival is unexpected, Eliott looks like he hasn’t left his house in days, and he probably needs to sort himself out. Lucas gets it. 

“Of course,” he responds, “Where do you want to meet?” 

Eliott finally meets Lucas’ eyes then, and Lucas wants to cry at the sadness he finds swimming within them, the uncertainty and the fear. “At the field, you know the one...” he breathes. Lucas is nodding his head reassuringly. He knows exactly where Eliott is referring to.

“We can do that. I’ll meet you there at 7 then?” He gives Eliott a small smile, it’s hopeful. Eliott nods, and Lucas sees the tiny smile tugging at Eliott’s lips. It’s barely there, and it’s more of a sad twinge.

But it’s something at least. 

Lucas spends the next hour aimlessly wandering around. Walks painfully slow towards the field and gets there twenty minutes early. But he’s content with just waiting, despite the nerves sitting heavy in his stomach he feels better. Better now that Eliott has actually agreed to meet him, that they’re trying. 

He sits onto the grass, ironically in the exact spot they had shared their first kiss a few months ago. The memory sends chills up Lucas’ spine. 

When Eliott arrives the sun is just beginning to set. It transmits a stunning sheen across the sky, a hopeful melody of red, pinks and purples shaping the clouds. Pink skies are Lucas’ favourite kinds of skies, he thinks. Because his mother would always tell him that a pink-red sky at twilight means the following day is expected to be sunny and bright. So pink skies embody optimism, hope for a better day. Which is exactly what Lucas needs right now. 

Eliott wordlessly sits down next to Lucas in the grass. He’s close, but not nearly close enough. But it’s okay, Lucas tells himself, because he’s here at least and that’s all that matters. 

“The sky’s beautiful tonight,” Eliott is the first to speak. The sound startles Lucas a little, it’s unexpected, but he smiles nonetheless. 

“It’s exactly what I was just thinking,” Lucas glances over to him, Eliott looks right back. He looks better than before, his hair slightly damp from the shower and his body clad in cleaner clothes. He looks soft, stunning.

”I’ve missed you,” Lucas admits, his voice quiet. _He’s missed Eliott so much it hurts_. Eliott blinks slowly, his gaze faltering. “What happened?” Lucas asks then, “What happened to us?”

Eliott takes a shaky breath, his lips trembling. He pulls them into a tight line, to stop the wavering probably. “I haven’t been honest with you.” 

“Okay,” Lucas tries to ignore the panic rising in his chest, tries not to think up the worst. He waits patiently for Eliott to continue, wants to give him as much time as possible because he knows it’s hard. He knows how hard it is to open up, he’s been through that, and the thought of someone pressuring him to hurry up, _just say it,_ would have freaked Lucas the hell out. So for Eliott Lucas waits, lets him gather his thoughts. 

“I’m bipolar.” 

The words don’t hit Lucas as hard as he expects them to. Maybe it should be a shock, maybe it should have caused him to look away, or to furrow his brows and frown. But Lucas doesn’t feel any of these things. Instead he nods slowly, and he feels relief. The feeling is lucid. Lucas watches Eliott play absentmindedly with the grass, nervously pulling rogue blades from the ground and letting them fall through his fingers and he feels every ounce of hurt and anger that had been lingering in his system fall away. What once was confusion and betrayal diluting into understanding, leaving a tangible feeling of just… Relief.

Relief because it makes sense. Suddenly everything shifts into place and Lucas understands. He understands why Eliott had freaked out the morning Lucas opened up about his mum, he understands why Eliott needed time, he understands why Eliott hasn’t been able to come to school, or answer his texts or give Lucas an explanation. Lucas understands.

And he’s not relieved that Eliott has bipolar, it’s not like that. Because obviously that’s big, and it’s significant and something that’s going to become a massive part of Lucas’ life (if Eliott decides that’s what he wants). Living with a mental illness isn’t easy, Lucas would know, growing up around his mother’s episodes. But that doesn’t mean Lucas doesn’t want to live through that with Eliott. He’s willing to fight for this, like he said.

Eliott lets the words sit between them for a few moments, just lingering there, waiting for Lucas to either catch and hold them or slice and break them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Eliott is speaking again, his voice is feeble, his words subdued and hesitant. “But I just didn’t know how, and things were so good. I felt so good. I didn’t want to lose that,” he pauses, his eyes finally, _finally_ finding Lucas’, “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Lucas’ heart shatters, and he’s shaking his head instantly, “You wouldn’t have,” he insists. “By telling me. You wouldn’t have lost me.”

“But I can’t know that. I never know how people are going to react.”

He looks timid, withdrawn, and Lucas wants nothing more than to reach out and soothe the creases patterned on his forehead, to rub comforting circles along his back. Because Eliott doesn’t deserve sadness. Eliott is joy. He’s the sun that peaks through clouds on a stormy day, he’s the feeling of cold water after a long sprint, he’s the sound of a beautiful melody played on the unique crackle of a turntable. He’s Lucas’ happiness.

Lucas hates how desperately he’s craving to touch, to hold and to feel. So he holds back, because something tells him now isn’t the time, it wouldn’t be fair. He needs to give Eliott time. Eliott needs space to let this all out.

“But you know me,” Lucas reminds him.

Eliott nods, “Yeah I do. But that doesn’t really make a difference, especially when I’m—” He sighs, frustrated, “When I don’t feel so good.”

Lucas tries not to feel upset, because he understands. _He does_.

“I don’t—” Lucas starts, “I don’t want to make you feel bad, because I understand, okay? I get it. But the way you left, the notes and then the disappearing it… It hurt me.”

Eliott visibly recoils at this, and Lucas almost regrets the words. But he doesn’t take them back, because he needs Eliott to know. He needs Eliott to know how much him not talking to Lucas has hurt him.

“That’s not what I wanted,” Eliott’s voice is quivering, and it causes a lump to form in Lucas’ throat. _Please don’t be sad._ “I didn’t mean to hurt you at all. The reason I did those things was so I wouldn’t end up hurting you. Because the way I am, I will. I’m gonna hurt you so bad Lucas, it’s happened before. I always end up hurting the people around me and I don’t want that for you. I don’t ever want to see you sad, or upset. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Lucas tries. Eliott is shaking his head, “I will, Lucas. And you’re gonna end up despising me, because this thing I have, it’s not pretty. It gets bad, and I’ll shout at you and I’ll ignore you some days and I’ll refuse to leave my bed for a week and I’ll probably run off leaving you worried sick and I’ll do stupid shit that I can’t control and you’re going to hate me eventually. You’re going to want to leave.”

And Lucas can’t have this, he feels the strain in his forehead with how hard he’s furrowing his eyebrows because it’s _wrong_. Eliott is _wrong._ Lucas could never ever in a million years hate Eliott. The insinuation is implausible.

“Weren’t you the one who told me you were tired of people telling you how to feel?” Lucas asks, memory of that day Eliott had reached out for him after the fight with his parents. A small part of Lucas wonders now whether Eliott’s bipolar had something to do with that.

Eliott nods reluctantly, a little unsure of what Lucas is hinting at. Lucas shakes his head lightly, “Then don’t tell me how you think I should feel about this, or how you think I’m going to feel. Let me be the one to decide that.” His voice is gentle, because he isn’t annoyed, not at all. He just needs Eliott to see where he’s coming from, because Eliott is probably so caught up in his own thoughts and worries, has probably convinced himself that Lucas couldn’t possibly want him after this, couldn’t possibly love him. But God, is he wrong. So, so wrong.

“This doesn’t change things for me,” Lucas whispers, _because I love you, I’m so in love with you,_ he wants to say. Though he doesn’t, the time isn’t right. “I still feel the same about you as I did before. This, it doesn’t change how I feel. Yeah, I wish you would have told me sooner, but we can’t turn back time. I know now, that’s what matters. And I’m sure it’s gonna be hard sometimes, we’ll probably fight and get upset with each other, but doesn’t that happen in every relationship? Maybe we’ll have to work a little harder sometimes, but for me it’s worth it. You’re so worth it to me.”

A few tears fall past Eliott’s eyes as he blinks, and Lucas’ hands twitch with the intense need to reach out. This time he does, she shuffles over on the grass until he’s right up to Eliott’s side, and he cups his face. He cradles Eliott’s cheeks like they’re made from glass, and he wipes the tears away softer than air, his fingertips feather light. Eliott’s eyes flutter shut, a shaking breath falling from his parted lips. Lucas knows he’s crying too at this point, with the stinging in his eyes and the dampness of his own cheeks, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Those are some big promises,” Eliott whispers, almost like he isn’t believing what Lucas is saying. “I don’t want you to tell me these things and then change your mind months down the line when I get too much for you to deal with. That’s happened to me before, I can’t go through that again, losing someone so close to me.”

Lucas feels anger curl in his stomach at the thought of someone hurting Eliott in the past, someone leaving him and causing him to harbour these feelings. “What happened before?”

Eliott reaches for Lucas’ hands, sliding them off his cheeks, but doesn’t drop them like Lucas expects him to. Instead he holds onto them.

“At my old school, last year, I had this really bad manic episode,” he begins, Lucas rubs soothing circles with his thumb onto the back of Eliott’s hand, “And my friends, they knew about my bipolar and they always were supportive, you know? But this one episode fucked everything up. I tried to kiss one of them, I don’t really know why it just happened. But he pushed me away, hard. And the look on his face it just—” he sighs, looking down, “That’s not the only thing I did that time, I didn’t turn up for my bac exams, and I did so much stupid shit. They never tried to reach out, after that. They just left me.”

The dejection on Eliott’s face is heart wrenching, Lucas squeezes his hands. “That’s fucked up of them. I’m sorry.”

“It happened, I guess,” Eliott brushes it off with a breathy chuckle.

“You know, the guys, Yann, Arthur and Basile. They fucking love you, Eliott. You’re all they talk about, so don’t think for a second that you don’t have people, because you have us okay? And I know for a fact that they won’t give two shits that you’re bipolar. Fuck, Basile’s mum is bipolar, did you know that?” Eliott shakes his head. “So yeah, you have us. If you want us, that is.”

“I do,” Eliott whispers, his voice small.

“I want to be with you, whatever that means, whatever we have to deal with. We’ll do it together.”

For the first time in weeks, Lucas sees Eliott smile, and it’s truly the most mesmerizing thing he has ever seen. How Eliott’s eyes glisten against his tears, how his lips tug upwards to form little crescent moon dimples on his cheeks. He’s beautiful, it steals every last breath out of Lucas’ lungs.

“I want that too,” Eliott whispers. Lucas moves his hands to cup Eliott’s cheeks again, his own smile widening, “Let’s set some terms,” Lucas suggests.

“Terms?”

Lucas hums, “Yeah. Like from now on, we should promise to communicate. If either of us feel a certain way, we tell each other okay? No hiding how we feel.” Eliott nods, “Okay.” Lucas runs his fingers through the hair that flops across Eliott’s forehead, “And you’ll promise to tell me when you don’t feel good, so you don’t ever have to go through that alone again?” Eliott nods again, “I promise.”

Lucas rests their foreheads together, he feels Eliott’s breath shudder. “Can you kiss me now?” Eliott murmurs, Lucas lets out a light chuckle, “Yeah.”

And they still have so much to talk through, Lucas still has so much to say. But for now it can wait. Because right now Eliott wants Lucas to kiss him, and Lucas has never ached for anything more in his life.

**…**

Later that night as Lucas lies in bed, soft breaths ghosting the skin of his neck, a lazy arm draped across his waist. Lucas turns to face Eliott, his eyes are shut, but he’s still awake, Lucas can tell as such since his forehead is furrowed and his breaths are slightly uneven.

“Eliott,” Lucas whispers, brushing the side of his thumb along Eliott’s cheek, softly, ever so softly.

“Mhm?” Eliott mumbles, his eyes fluttering open. They’re bright even in the darkness of the room, the brightest things Lucas has ever seen. He thinks of using Eliott’s eyes as a lighthouse, how they would glisten when Lucas feels lost, how Lucas would find their light and their iridescence would guide him right home. Back into Eliott’s arms.

“I love you,” Lucas murmurs, the words are quiet, but they’re indubitably prominent in the stillness between them.

He _feels_ it as Eliott’s breath hitches, he sees the exact moment the words settle in Eliott’s mind, he can pinpoint the specific millisecond he lets himself accept them.

“I love you too, Lucas. I love you so much,” Eliott presses their foreheads together. Lucas smiles, Eliott smiles right back.

The high Lucas feels in that moment is untouchable, like he’s suspended in gravity and nothing could ever possibly pull him down. He wants to forever immortalise this feeling so he never forgets, so he never forgets the glint in Eliott’s eyes and the beautiful curve of his lips. He’s reeling with it, the bliss of Eliott’s reciprocal confession tying him up in velvet laced ribbons and holding him close, promising to never let go. Lucas feels exhilarated, euphoric.

And he’s so, so in love.

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for your endless support with this fic. i love u all so much. let me know what you think with a comment, and kudos are v much appreciated :) 
> 
> come find me on tumblr - [@lumierelovers](https://lumierelovers.tumblr.com/) epilogue will be up very soon <3


	13. l'épilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is!!! the final chapter of this fic!! ahhh. apologies for how long it took but it’s here now that’s all that matters!!! also can i just say, the word count of this fic is so over what i can comprehend, because i didn’t plan for it to be so long and numbers are stressful. but i’ll get real sappy in the end notes probably, so for now, please enjoy :)

_« de temps en temps, il est bon d'arrêter notre quête du bonheur et d'être tout simplement heureux. »_

_..._

 

_4 months later_

**Friday 09:08**

Lucas has never been one to believe in miracles, he hates the cliché of things, the false hope and the wishful thinking. But he thinks, right now, as he watches Eliott slowly stir awake beside him, he might just be able to make one exception. Because this— this is probably the most mesmerising wonder on earth. The picturesque flutter of his boyfriend’s eyelashes as he blinks awake, the breathtaking sight of light grey meeting blue, the raspy murmur of his lips, the light blush across his cheekbones and the imprint of soft sheets pressed into his skin.

It’s a sight Lucas wants to revel in forever, a sight so indisputably stunning literally nothing within galaxies afar could even compare to.

“Hello there,” Lucas whispers, smiling at the glint of disorientation lingering in Eliott’s eyes, like a bewildered Bambi blinking warily out of his daze.

Eliott only provides a string of incoherent mumbles in response, edging his head forward into Lucas’ chest and wrapping his arms around his waist, latching onto him like a leech. Lucas clings back just as tight, arms tightening around Eliott’s shoulders to hold him in place.

Waking up next to Eliott is Lucas’ favourite thing ever, he thinks— thinks he could just about spend his entire life wrapped up in soft sheets and even softer skin.

It’s like in that moment, Lucas’ heart slows down to a complete stop, only to speed up at the same time and beat at a thousand miles per hour.

Sometimes, like now, they’ll spend the early hours of the morning wordlessly cuddling. Sometimes they’ll chat nonsensically about their dreams or the day ahead. Sometimes they’ll make out, other times they’ll lazily get each other off, or maybe they’ll make tea and watch a movie. Those few undisturbed hours of the morning— too early for the responsibilities of life to fully get underway, where it feels like the world is on standby— are the most precious hours of Lucas’ day. Because together, enclosed within their own little bubble, they don’t need to worry about anything.

It’s almost like nothing and nobody exists but them.

“What time is the party again?” Eliott speaks for the first time that morning into Lucas’ chest, words vibrating against skin. He’s referring to the renowned end of year party, that to be honest, Lucas had completely forgotten about until only recently.

He had totally pushed the matter into the furthest corner of his mind, because the past couple of months have been the most eventual months of Lucas’ life, probably. The most notable being the flourishing of his and Eliott’s relationship. The speed they’ve come to adapt themselves into each other’s lives should be scary, should have Lucas’ commitment issues just itching to take over and fuck something up. But as of yet, things have been smooth sailing.

Well, almost.

Lucas isn’t naïve, he knows a relationship will never be picture perfect. They still bicker sometimes over silly things. There’s days Eliott doesn’t feel like leaving his bed, there’s times Lucas will get into a crabby mood and give the silent treatment, because it had been a long day and emotions were running high.

But despite all of this, despite the struggles they find themselves encountering, they’re so infinitesimal in comparison to the good days. The good days, which are painted in gold, that radiate pure bliss, shine brighter than the sun.

And the harder days are so infrequent, Lucas thinks even if they doubled in number, he would still love them just as much. They would only just make the better days all the more amazing.

 _No rain, no flowers,_ his mother likes to tell him.

“It starts at eight.”

Eliott hums in acknowledgement, “I hope you know I’m not leaving this bed until at least seven.”

“Oh no?” Lucas laughs.

Eliott peeks his head up from Lucas’ chest, “Nope.”

“Well that’s a long time to spend in bed,” Lucas runs his hand through Eliott’s bedhead, “What on earth do you plan on doing with all that time?”

With a shrug, Eliott moves his face closer to Lucas’, resting their foreheads together and smiling, “I have a few ideas.” The whisper gets lost in Lucas’ inability to hold back as he catches’ Eliott in a kiss. He cups Eliott’s cheek, letting his eyes flutter shut and parting his lips, silently begging for more.

“That being one of them,” Eliott mumbles against Lucas’ lips, smirking and pulling away slightly, “Or all of them.”

Lucas giggles, “I like this idea.”

“Mmm,” Eliott hums into Lucas’ lips again. Lucas takes back what he said earlier, kissing Eliott is his favourite thing ever.

Hours later— when dreams about world exterminating aliens have been dissected, when their lips become so swollen it’s almost laughable, after one too many cups of tea have been left forgotten on the side to turn cold— they decide that it’s probably time to venture back into reality.

Reluctantly, so.

They’re in the bathroom, Lucas brushing his teeth while Eliott rests on the ledge of the bathtub, his hair still an unkempt mess on top of his head as he smiles down at his phone.

“What are you smiling at?” Lucas asks, words muffled around his toothbrush.

Eliott glances up, eyes glistening, smile beautiful, “Your mum is texting me.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, he pretends the fact that his mother tends to text Eliott more frequently than she texts Lucas himself, her own son, bothers him. But in reality it causes an indescribable sense of fondness to surge through him, because ever since the moment Lucas had took Eliott to meet his mother, she had fallen in love with him within seconds. And Eliott is a charmer, Lucas knows this, but he’s so sweet with her, so kind. Lucas can’t even put into words how happy it makes him, to see the two most important people in his life getting along so well.

“What’s she saying?” Lucas asks once he’s rid his mouth of toothpaste.

“Asking when we’ll come visit again. We can go tomorrow right? You’re not busy?”

Lucas raises his eyebrows, “And she couldn’t text this to me?”

Eliott looks up from his phone, grinning smugly, “Are you jealous that your mum likes me more than you?”

Squinting, Lucas scoffs, “She does _not_ like you more than me.” Eliott only shrugs teasingly.

Of course Lucas isn’t actually annoyed, and of course Eliott knows this. He rises from his perch on the bathtub and moves until he has Lucas crowded against the sink, so close Lucas can feel his breath fanning across his face.

“No?”

“No,” Lucas whispers, brain melting into a pile of mush when Eliott smiles again and knocks their noses together. He tries to hold up the wall of stubbornness, tries to stand his ground, but Eliott’s eyes are literally glowing, and Lucas can feel the contents of his heart almost spilling over the edges of his ribcage with how much _love_ he has for him.

“It makes me really happy, you know?” Lucas says then, cutting his pretend annoyed act short.

“What does?”

Lucas continues, arms reaching up to wrap around Eliott’s neck to keep him in place, to keep him close. “Seeing how much she loves you, how much you get on. That means everything to me.” He pauses briefly, moving one hand to brush the back of his fingers along Eliott’s cheek. “My family life has always been not that great, I’ve never felt secure, or like I had a proper home. I never thought I would ever feel like this.” He smiles as Eliott brushes their noses together again, “Never thought it could feel this amazing, having a family.”

He doesn’t mean to sound so sappy, didn’t mean to damper the light teasing mood. But he wholeheartedly means it.

Eliott is his family now. _His home._

And maybe his newfound family is a little dysfunctional and misshaped, maybe it’s not your typical mother-and-father-with-their perfect-son-and-daughter kind of family. Instead, maybe it’s his struggling mother, his ridiculously adorable boyfriend, his chaotic friends and loud flatmates. But, truthfully, with everything in him, Lucas wouldn’t change a damn thing about it, _not a single fraction_. Because to him, this is perfect.

 _This_ is what family is.

Eliott smiles, wet and dopey, “I love you so much, you know?” Lucas nods, huffing out his own wet chuckle, “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”

They probably look ridiculous, on the verge of tears for no apparent reason, but Lucas can’t bring himself to care. He’s just _so fucking happy_.

“So tomorrow? We can go?” Eliott asks a little excitedly, like a kid asking if they can go to the funfair.

Lucas laughs, nodding as he strokes Eliott’s grinning cheeks, “Of course we can, my love.”

**…**

**Friday 20:17**

Lucas arrives to the party, not alone, but with Eliott pressed into his side, an arm draped over his shoulders.

When they get to the entrance, and Eliott holds the door open for him, Lucas catches their reflection in the glass. And they look _good_ together, he decides. They’re dressed up— smart casual, Daphné had ordered— and Eliott looks stunning in a black shirt. He had frowned at first, how the collar itched at his neck and the cuffs too tight at his wrists, but to Lucas he looked beautiful.

A glimmer of sparkle catches Lucas’ eye, then. The glitter Eliott had insisted they paint across their cheeks and under their eyes, because, _I really wasn’t fucking joking when I said I always go to parties with my supply of glitter, Lucas. Does it look like I’m joking?_ Lucas now knows, that Eliott was in fact, being completely serious.

Because here they are.

And Lucas may have rolled his eyes, but he loves it, really. Loves how when they enter the main party venue and the florescent disco lights dance across his boyfriend’s face in hues of blue and purple, it catches onto the specks of silver and gold and the slight sheen of sweat that has gathered on his skin. How it radiates an ethereality that leaves him breathless and speechless and aching to touch, kiss and hold all at the same time.

“You look so fucking hot,” Lucas leans up to whisper into Eliott’s ear as they submerge themselves further into the crowds in search of their friends.

Eliott beams down at him, and it’s like a sunrise that Lucas feels like he could never get enough of— bright and ambient, warm and beautiful.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Eliott’s steps falter so he can turn to face Lucas as he continues to speak, “because I’ll want to take you straight home, and we should probably show our faces here for at least an hour. Daphné put a lot of effort into this, it would only be rude.”

He’s teasing, but Lucas can sense the slice of gravity in his words that turn his eyes a darker shade of blue, almost grey.

“I don’t think anyone will notice if we slip out for a bit,” Lucas says lowly despite the heavy bass of music circulating the room and thumping to the rhythm of his heart. Eliott only throws him a _don’t test my patience_ kind of look, which has Lucas giggling into Eliott’s shoulder (he blames the wine they had sipped on together while getting ready, it was maybe fuzzing up his head slightly. A happy buzz).

 _Take me home, take me home, take me home,_ he wants to whine. But unfortunately Eliott is right, Daphné and the others have worked all year to make sure tonight goes well (then there’s the fact that Lucas and Eliott were actually supposed to help with the entire thing but bailed after like, a week) so it’s only fair they stay to _at least_ greet everyone.

“Fine,” Lucas gives in to Eliott’s raised brows and disproving frown, like he wasn’t the one to bring up taking Lucas home in the first place.

Eliott smiles, “Shall we then?” He holds out his forearm expectantly, Lucas links his own arm onto it as they venture deeper into the room.

They find their friends soon enough.

Everyone is there, next to the drinks table. The guys, Yann, Basile and Arthur. The girls, Manon, Emma, Alexia, Imane and Daphné. All chatting and laughing and dancing to the sound of some electronic borderline dubstep song that Lucas would probably scrunch his nose up at if Eliott were to put on, but then end up bobbing his head without noticing a minute in and have Eliott tease him for it. Right now though, it’s tolerable. He’ll maybe even request something later, have the DJ play something slow so he can pull Eliott onto the dance floor and twirl him along to the soft melody of a piano.

When their friends notice them approaching, they receive a chorus of cheers that have them blushing, grinning and rolling their eyes all at the same time.

“My guys! Loving the glitter!” Basile exclaims as he pulls them into a bone crushing three-way hug. Lucas catches Yann’s amused gaze over Basile’s shoulder and manages to free a hand to throw him a small wave.

“Thanks Baz,” Lucas hears Eliott chuckle as they begin to separate. The others joining them as they all exchange more calm, collected greetings.

Yann is the last to approach, a wide grin splashed across his face as he slaps a hand onto Eliott’s shoulder. “Congratulations, man, on your bac results, by the way. Art college?! Look at you!” 

Lucas thinks, if anyone were to see his face right now, or the moment he had found out that Eliott had passed his bac with flying colours _and_  gotten into art college in Paris, he would probably get teased relentlessly for the rest of his life. But it doesn’t stop the wave of pride that washes over him as he watches Eliott’s eyes light up at Yann’s words, because he’s _so fucking proud._ And it’s what Eliott deserves, after having such a difficult few years, after everything he’s had to deal with on top of the stress of exams he still managed to do so well.

So yeah, Lucas is so proud. Is vibrating with it.

He feels _giddy_ with it. He remembers the morning a few days ago when Eliott had found out, how he had sat crossed-legged at the foot of Lucas’ bed with his laptop open in front of him. How he had been biting and tugging at his lips with a nervous hand as they sat in anticipatory silence, because Lucas could tell his little _you’re going to get in, I know you will_ words of encouragement were starting to stress his boyfriend out to a degree. So instead he had placed a reassuring hand to Eliott’s knee as they waited. And when it came, on the seventh refresh of Eliott’s emails, when Eliott’s face had fell pale for a slight second, but was quickly replaced by a wide grin, his hands coming up to his stretched out cheeks, is when Lucas _knew._ When he felt like he could finally breathe again.

 _“I got in,”_ Eliott had whispered to himself, almost in disbelief, before his eyes flickered up to meet Lucas’, all teary and bright. _“I got in.”_

Lucas had lunged himself forwards into Eliott’s arms instantly, words of pride and happiness tumbling from his lips in rushed breaths. He didn’t even care about his own results in that moment, he knew they were sitting unopened in his inbox, but in that second, the relief that flushed across Eliott’s features, the pride in his _own_ eyes, were all that had mattered.

“Thank you,” Eliott smiles at Yann now. Lucas wraps an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

“Isn’t he so clever?” Lucas coos, making Eliott blush slightly under the glow of neon lights, “My boyfriend is an art student now, Yann.”

Yann chuckles, “I know! It’s amazing.”

He feels Eliott curl into him from the side to press a soft kiss to his cheek, “Says you,” he mumbles, “Mr Biology Student.”

This only earns him an eye roll, because it’s whatever. Sure, Lucas had actually managed to secure a place in a genetics and molecular biology course in a university only a ten minute walk from Eliott’s art college. _It’s no big deal,_ just like, the best fucking thing ever.

It’s like life decided it was Lucas’ turn to have some good fortune for once, he’s not complaining.

Imane must overhear, as she pokes her head over Yann’s shoulder to interject. “And who do you have to thank for that, huh?” She jokes.

“Hello to you too,” Lucas narrows his eyes, which only causes her to laugh.

Truthfully, Imane is right. Lucas isn’t so sure he would have gotten as good as a grade in biology if it wasn’t for her constant nagging at him to study and the helpful revision cards she would make with him. And _of course_ he’s already thanked her for that, countless times. He probably owes her a lifetime worth of thank you’s for the stress she had to put up with sitting next to him in class.

They chat for a while about her plans for next year, about Eliott’s course amongst other things. Eventually, Yann excuses himself, and Lucas is about to suggest they go dance or something, but Imane changes the topic of conversation, her voice cautious.

“Idriss has been asking after you,” she says, eyes fixed on Eliott.

 _Idriss,_ Lucas thinks. Imane’s brother, he had learned a few months ago, Eliott’s best friend at the time— the one he had tried to kiss during a manic episode and ended up losing contact with.

Beside him, Eliott frowns, Lucas wants to reach out and smooth the lines that have formed between his brows.

“He has?” Eliott asks, like he doesn’t want to let himself believe the friends that had abandoned him during a time he needed them the most actually cared enough to ask how he has been doing. Like maybe they have cared all along.

Imane nods, “Yeah. He’s been trying to text you, but the messages won’t deliver.”

“Oh,” Eliott’s breathing maybe halts for a split second, before evening out again into a shaky gust. “I got a new number a while back.”

An elbow of a passing drunk classmate digs into Lucas’ side, causing him to fall into Eliott slightly. It breaks the tension a little, how Eliott has to look away from Imane to steady him, how he wraps an arm around Lucas’ shoulders and keeps it there. Lucas lets his own arm find Eliott’s waist, squeezes once as if to say _I’m right here._ Because he knows how hard Eliott finds this specific topic of conversation to talk about.

A sigh of relief falls past Imane’s lips, “You did? You know, he was worried you had blocked him or something.”

“No,” Eliott shakes his head, “I wouldn’t.”

She nods, mouth still forming around her words a little tentatively, like she knows it’s a sore topic. “Is it okay if I pass on your number? I think he’d really like to talk.”

Eliott doesn’t respond for a few moments, like he’s contemplating his answer. Lucas knows, deep down, that it’s exactly what Eliott wants. He knows how hard it was for him losing those friends, how hard it’s been for him going through so many highs and not having them there to tell them about it. And Lucas has always thought, that whatever happened between them, could never be as simple as them finding out Eliott is bipolar and then wanting nothing to do with him because of that. Lucas knows someone close to Imane, who was raised to be kind, understanding and full of so much love wouldn’t turn their back on a friend like that.

So Lucas hopes, _really hopes_ , Eliott can see that too.

And he must, because he smiles, it’s small, but it’s still there. “Okay, Yeah. That’s okay. I’d like that too.”

Lucas squeezes his hip again, and when Imane leaves with a promise to text Idriss Eliott’s number, Lucas can almost feel the weight that had been weighing a ton on Eliott’s shoulders fall away like smoke.

“Let’s dance,” Lucas says, tugging on the sleeve of Eliott’s shirt, who smiles, and follows without protest.

They find their friends there, limbs flailing and heads bobbing against the intermittent flash of lights and the blaring of music. And as Lucas lets his mind fade away with the rush of colours and drums, he finds himself feeling so unbelievably free. Free like a bird in the wind, soaring and gliding along the dips of waves by a summer’s sea. Free like a knot come undone, like the leaf of a tree floating and twirling to the ground.

He feels like a livewire has tangled him up and then spiralled him loose when Eliott comes up behind him and grasps his waist. And he feels an electric current spark every thumping pulse point in his body as they begin to dance together.

It’s like nobody else exists, like they’re dancing in the world alone. They’re surrounded by so many; by their friends, by people they know only in passing and maybe some who dare to say shit behind their backs. But it’s okay. Because he’s here, with Eliott. His boyfriend. And that’s something Lucas didn’t think could have been a possibility even in a universe far, far away this time last year.

It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. So he lets the music, the pressure of Eliott’s hands and warm breath along his neck drink up the wine that lingers in his bloodstream, and he lets that consume his thoughts instead.

At midnight, they sneak out.

“Come with me,” Eliott giggles close to Lucas’ ear, pulling him from the swarm of dancing bodies and out though the fire escape exit. They find a set of winding metal stairs that lead onto a roof, and soon enough they’re lying side-by-side on the concrete surface, gazing up at the night sky glistening above.

It’s reminds Lucas of their first date, vaguely. How Eliott had taken Lucas to the planetarium and asked him to be his boyfriend under the stars that they had made their own. It’s almost like fate has guided them in a whirlwind that was always destined to circle back to this moment. To them, and the stars, and the moon.

But most importantly, to them. Lucas and Eliott.

“I’m so happy,” Eliott murmurs, quietly, but it’s there. Lucas glances over to him, is left breathless when he sees Eliott already looking at him, his eyes bright. So, so bright. Almost as bright as the stars.

Lucas’ heart clenches, in the best kind of way. A way that says _God, I’m so in love with you._

“Me too,” Lucas tells him, his heart feeling like it might burst.

Eliott sighs when he looks back to the sky. Lucas keeps his gaze on the specks of glitter scattered across his skin, how it’s smudged slightly from the hotness of the party, but is beautiful, still. How the reflection of the moon catches onto the flecks of gold to illuminate his face in the prettiest glow Lucas has ever seen.

“Do you remember this one?” Eliott speaks again, his hand reaching up to point to the sky.

Admittedly, Lucas _has_ been trying to learn the curves and patterns of the constellations that Eliott finds such a fascination in. But he just doesn’t have the same natural flare his boyfriend does. Finds himself getting muddled easily and lost within the shapes. He finds it frustrating, because it shouldn’t be so difficult, but Eliott only calls it cute.

“Uh…” Lucas furrows his brows, tries really hard to place the pattern, but falls short and ends up guessing, “The big dipper?”

A soft giggle falls past Eliott’s lips, “No! Baby, you say that one every time.”

“But there’s so many! How am I supposed to remember them all?” he defends, poking a finger into Eliott’s side that causes him to squirm.

“It’s your birthday soon,” Eliott says as his laughter dies down. “I’ll buy you one of those books, you know the ones,  _stargazing for dummies_.”

Lucas opens his mouth in offence, a shocked gasp falling into the night, “Yeah, well it’s your birthday soon too, don’t forget. So if you keep acting like an asshole you won’t be getting any presents.”

“None?” Eliott smiles, amused because he knows damn well Lucas has already bought all of his presents weeks in advance. Because whenever Lucas sees something that makes him think of Eliott he just can’t stop himself from getting it for him.

”Absolutely zero.”

They look at each other then, Lucas squinting and Eliott smiling, until Lucas can’t hold back any longer, until he can’t fight the tugging of his lips at the iridescence he finds swimming within Eliott’s irises. And then they’re laughing, breaths and giggles not disturbing the stillness of the night, but comforting it. 

Making it feel lighter, warmer.

“I want to feel like this forever,” Lucas admits next, once their laughs have subdued, because it’s true. This euphoria he feels around Eliott, the giddiness and the love and the _happiness_. It only grows more and more each day, and he doesn’t want it to ever stop.

_Ever, ever, ever._

“Like what?”

Lucas glances up to the sky again, smiles as he thinks about the prospect of a future with Eliott, about how incredibly free and light he feels. “Just happy. _Really fucking happy_.”

“You will,” Eliott smiles, words certain as his hand finds Lucas’ in the dark of the night to intertwine their fingers.

And Lucas has never been one to believe in miracles, but he thinks, right here, right now— with the slight summer breeze cooling their skin, with the moon watching over them in all her glory, with the stars intertwining themselves across the sky in a pattern that says _forever—_ Lucas thinks, _knows_ , thatEliott _is_ his miracle. His forever.

“I promise, you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so much to everyone that’s read, shared, commented on and supported this fic. i started this not knowing much about skam france, and decided to play a lot on canon because it’s the first thing i’ve written really and i was nervy but now i feel like i can experiment more. as i learned more and grew in my writing there was a point i felt like i wasn’t being creative enough with this, because it was so close to canon. but the support and the messages i received urged me to keep going, and i’m so so glad that i did :) i hope this ending was satisfying enough, i wanted to keep it simple, and yeah. just thank u again. so much. and feel free to check out the other fics i’m working on!! because we all need something to fill the void until s5!!! LOVE U 
> 
> my tumblr - [@lumierelovers](https://lumierelovers.tumblr.com/)  
> my twitter - [@sebslouvre](https://mobile.twitter.com/sebslouvre)
> 
> (the quote at the beginning of this chapter is by guillaume apollinaire)


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